Of Things We Lost
by dakotasilverlock
Summary: Merissa Thorpe's life has never been easy, but it has always been at least predictable. She could expect her brother to be snobbish, her parents angry and her boyfriend overbearing. All of this changes when the tumultuous presence of Tom Riddle makes residence in her world. New cover by January Lily.
1. A String of Pale Pearls

September 1st, 1942

Merissa winced as her mother stabbed another pin into the crown of her dark hair, apparently to secure the tight bun on the nape of her neck.

"Stop moving," Rosalynn Thorpe snipped coolly, and she dug the pin vindictively further into her hair, poking painfully into her scalp. Merissa was quite sure that this much force was not at all necessary, but her mother seemed intent on reprimanding her for her behavior earlier that day.

"There will be no need for anymore unladylike comments for the rest of the morning, or especially after you leave," her mother began, not moving her eyes from her project of taming her daughter's dark waves, "Abraxas has ensured us that he will be more attentive to your _discrepancies_ this year since Joseph will be busy with Head Boy duties, but nonetheless, I do not wish to hear that he has had to speak to you at all. And I will hear if it does happen Merissa, don't doubt that. Neither you nor I want it to get to your father."

Merissa decided, against her baser instincts, that this would be a good time to physically bite her tongue, so she did. Abraxas Malfoy was her boyfriend (or was it fiance? She was never sure, as they have been betrothed officially since age ten and unofficially since before they were born) and his sole purpose in life seemed to be making absolute sure she never had any fun. Merissa had not been looking forward to him taking over her "supervision" as her mother called it as her older brother would be too busy this year.

"Pearls," the older Thorpe demanded and a tiny house elf darted forward, haphazardly balancing several open jewelry boxes over from a neighboring table.

"Hmm," her mother mused, icy eyes surveying the boxes down her slightly upturned nose, "You really do not wear this lovely one Abraxas got you from Paris enough, I'm sure he must think you are unappreciative."

Merissa had to bite down harder.

"Yes, this one will do," Rosalynn said, moving the pearls to her daughters delicate neck, where it brushed the neckline of her dove gray dress.

"I hardly think he notices, since I'm sure his mother picked it out, not him," Merissa said scathingly, no longer able to contain herself.

The strand of pale pink pearls was suddenly very tight at her neck as her mother forcefully clasped it, saying hotly, "Luckily, Mrs. Malfoy has a wonderful opinion of you, which you most certainly won't be tarnishing today or any other day until you and Abraxas are happily married. Unfortunately, I cannot hope your insubordination will go unnoticed past then."

Merissa tasted blood as she stopped herself from commenting.

Her mother turned a disdainful eye to the house elf that looked in danger of dropping the boxes still balanced in her small hands, as the creature had not moved since Rosalynn had ordered her to come with them.

"Pack the rest of those immediately! We will be leaving soon."

"Of course Mistress Thorpe!" the house elf piped, happy to be able to move again, and dashed away with the boxes, closing the door softly behind her.

Meanwhile, the younger Thorpe woman had begun tugging on her hair, trying to relieve some of the sharp pains that were already forming on her scalp because of the impossibly tight bun that had been sculpted at the base of her neck, only to have her hand smacked down by her mother's elegant fingers. Her elaborate family crest ring scratched Merissa, drawing a red line of blood down her hand, but Rosalynn took no notice of her daughters discomfort. Instead she bore her eyes into Merissa's in the mirror.

"I mean it when I say there will be serious consequences if I hear even a whisper of any senselessness on your part this year, Merissa Rose."

The two women held each other's eyes coldly, neither blinking.

The older eyes flashed and Rosalynn twisted the chair around so that her daughter was forced to look into her actual eyes. Merissa's chin jutted out, almost a knee jerk reaction to meeting her mother's stare. Finally, after several moments, Merissa's face melted into a small polite smile.

"Of course, mother. I wouldn't dream of disappointing you."

Merissa wouldn't dream of it because instead she would put purposeful effort into doing it in her waking hours. Generally, she found that if her parents disapproved of something, that was exactly the thing to do. Not that she felt the need to share that.

Her mother looked carefully at her for a moment before accepting triumph and beginning out the door, "Be downstairs in two minutes," and then the door was closed with a finalizing click.

Merissa immediately took the opportunity to pull at her hair more, feeling great relief as the bun was further loosened. She met her own startling blue eyes in the mirror, so similar to her mother's, except hers were looking more and more dead by the day. She could hear slight cracks as hairline fractures appeared in the vanity as her hopelessness began to manifest itself. Sighing, she stopped herself, waving her wand and murmuring " _Speculo repario_ " before heading to the entry hall where her mother and father were waiting for her.

/_\

Tom Riddle, while liking few things in this world, enjoyed today above any other day of the year. Holidays, weekends and even his own birthday brought him nowhere as close to happy as he was every September first since he had turned eleven.

He was a wizard after all, and today he would be leaving the gloomy orphanage where he lived during the summer to return with all his peers to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as he did every year on this day.

But this year was even better than most, because he had finally done it.

Last year had been the year he had finally discovered where his wizarding blood came from. He had been disappointed when he found out it was his mother who had been magical, and not his father, however his disappointment was short lived when he discovered who his mother - and therefore who he - was descended from.

Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Riddle's own house, had been his great-great-great-great grandfather, making him the last known descendant of the mighty wizard.

He made sure of that, when he had killed his father, grandfather and grandmother and then framed it all on his uncle not even a months time ago. Now he was returning to Hogwarts with a family ring and a secret, making him just like the rest of his house mates.

Admittedly, being halfblood had seemed like it would be a hindrance to climbing to the top of the pureblood pyramid that was Slytherin house, however Tom had found it to be exceptionally easy. A few well placed threats and countless readings on etiquette had made him indistinguishable to any other well-bred young man. Few of his classmates had even an inkling of the squalor he lived in away from Hogwarts.

Not that this changed the fact that he was waving away a rat from his musty jacket, the one piece of Muggle clothing he had ever purchased for himself. It was folded carefully under his neat pile of robes, unlikely to see the light of day again until he returned to this awful place. He would have been happy to leave it here with the rest of his clothes, but it would almost certainly be stolen if he didn't take it with him. No one would ever dare touch his things at Hogwarts anyways, he had made sure they were all too afraid of him for that.

And this year would be the most successful yet. How could anyone question his authority now that he had discovered his heritage? He was not only the most talented, but the most worthy leader Slytherin house had ever seen. He had only the greatest ambitions in mind as he latched his suitcase and began down the steps and out the door.

/_\

"How they expect us to come through the main entrance with all the muggles roaming around now is simple testimony to the degradation of wizard-kind," Merissa's father sneered, not bothering to keep his voice down as he swept in front of them, spearheading the family.

The Thorpe's were attracting some stares, as none of them had tried to conceal their wizarding apparel. Her father insisted it was below them to try to disguise themselves as muggles. He was dressed in regal black robes with harsh borders of orange. Around his neck was a large silver Thorpe family crest. It was by far his most gaudy outfit, so he was always sure to save it for September 1st, as the return to Hogwarts was the only day of the year he spent around muggles.

Her older brother, Joseph, eagerly followed him, hanging onto his every word. Joseph was a seventh year and the absolute special snowflake of the family. He had always been much more accepting of their parents' wishes than Merissa, probably because he drew no distinction between their beliefs and his own. Merissa thought he was the most stereotypical Slytherin she had ever encountered, ambitious, cunning and an absolute suck up to anyone who could further his position of authority. Joseph had proposed to his long time girlfriend, Walburga Black, while the whole family was vacationing in Spain just a few months ago, to both pairs of parent's absolute zeal. To top it off, he was made Head Boy this year and was proudly displaying his shiny badge on a puffed up chest today, making it impossible to miss. It made Merissa want to vomit.

In comparison, she was sorted into Ravenclaw. It was a slight disappointment she knew, as most of her family were in Slytherin in their time, but nonetheless, she had been made a prefect this year (to her own slight bemusement), so that was enough to pacify her parents for the time being.

Merissa hardly noticed as she pushed through the seemingly solid brick wall that served as the entrance to the hidden train platform with her mother at her side. She was so used to this now, as she had been coming here since her brother's first year, and was now a fifth year herself.

The platform was swarming with throngs of wizarding families, as usual. Most, unlike the Thorpe's, had attempted to dress as muggles, the results ranging from reasonable to hilarious. One family of flaming redheads where saying tearful goodbyes to their mother and father, both of which were wearing heavy snow gear despite the warm summer breeze. The youngest was held in the mother's arms, wearing a furry parka and goggles.

 _Typical Prewetts_ Merissa thought, hardly able to contain her grin. The family was known for being eccentric as they no longer associated with any of their pureblood relatives. Bloodtraitors, like Fitzwilliam Prewett, were not welcome at family gatherings.

Her father seemed to have spotted the family as well as he started hissing about having pride in wizarding apparel. Joseph nodded passionately, while Merissa tried to move to the scarlet engine, uninterested by their indignation. Before she could make it more than a stride away, however she was prevented from doing so by a vise-like grip around her forearm. She did not need to turn to know it was her mother, however she also knew she would not be allowed to leave until she dealt with her, so she turned.

"Yes, mother dear?' she asked in a falsetto that earned her a grim look from her father.

"We do not wish to hear even _whispers_ ," her mother hissed, scarlet nails digging into her prisoner's arm, though she was deliberate in keeping her voice low so that no one could hope to eavesdrop. This made Merissa's jaw clench.

"Careful, mother," she growled, yanking her arm back, "You wouldn't want to leave marks. People might start asking questions like they did after my 'vacation' to France fourth year!"

Her outburst shocked her parents so much that she was able to escape into the refuge of the steaming train. Hopping onto a step, she entered the train without a second thought. She knew she wouldn't be missing much - her family was never much for affectionate goodbyes even in the best of times. She walked swiftly down the corridor, not bothering to glance into the compartments as she went.

They were always in the one at the very back of the train anyway.

Right before she had reached it, she paused in the hall and took a long breath. Her eyes flickered up at her reflection in the glass door of the neighboring compartment, which was currently vacant. She looked normal, which was surprising, as she felt like screaming. With one last breath she pulled opened the door to the last compartment and slide inside.

Almost of the inhabitants were clad in their robes already, or, more likely, they had never bothered wearing Muggle clothes in the first place. All of them had a coiled snake emblem embroidered into their robes. Slytherins only sat with Slytherins.

A few looked up and offered some sort of polite greeting. A boy with shoulder length dark hair grinned up upon her estrance and patted the seat next to him enthusiastically. He was the only one in Muggle clothes, wearing a simple black button up and slacks, though his house scarf was still wrapped around his neck, indicating he was from the same house as the rest of them.

She began to sit while he greeted, "Hello Mer! Abraxas isn't here yet, but I'm sure he'll be along. Something about waiting for Riddle," his brown eyes danced in amusement, a sure sign he was about to make a joke, "Honestly, I think he forgets which one of you he's supposed to be with."

She gave him a grim smile. It was true - her boyfriend had been practically enamored with Riddle since they began spending time together their third year. Abraxas Malfoy valued two things in people: proper manners and magical talent, so the pairing was natural, however Merissa had never particularly cared for his friend. The other's apparently did not find his comment so amusing.

"Watch your tongue, Black," hissed a hard jawed boy, leering from across the aisle.

"Calm down, Lestrange, it was only a joke," Merissa said to him with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Aldophus Lestrange, although growing up with them along with a majority of the compartment, had never been a friend. His strict adherence to their parents opinions made him unapproachable and the echo chamber his niche of Slytherin house had created only intensified these heavy beliefs. Not to mention, there had been several nasty incidents involving Muggles over the years . . .

"Ugh," agreed Alphard, scooting away as if distance would keep him from Lestrange's unwanted stare.

Merissa examined his face for a moment. She had known Alphard Black her entire life, her oldest companion other than Abraxas, and certainly her oldest friend. Despite their closeness it was rare for them to see each other over the summer (mostly due to both families busy travel list for summering), and Merissa was concerned by the sharpness of his cheek bones and the dark bruises under his eyes that had not been present at the end of the previous term.

"You alright, Al?" she asked quietly, hoping the din of the compartment would mask her question.

"You worry too much," he avoided, grinning at her, "It's you who should be asked about."

"I'm fine," she frowned, "I spent all of summer in Spain with the Malfoys. I'm almost tan, look," she displayed the nearly translucent skin on her arm to him, making him raise his eyebrows.

"Mediterranean almost," he joked, but did not push the matter, for which she was grateful, "No worries though, we always have room for our favorite Ravenclaw!"

She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled. Alphard knew how to calm her nerves, and for that reason was her favorite Slytherin, "I am flattered, but I am fairly sure I am the only Ravenclaw most of you have ever talked to."

Andrew Nott overhead this and chortled, looking at her appreciatively. Merissa was popular with Abraxas' friends as she brought some much needed irresponsibility into their otherwise seemingly bland group. Merissa, of course, had no idea about their meetings with Riddle at the dead of night, which were far from bland.

Alphard's grin spread wider, and he leaned in conspiratorially, "You're right. I suppose you're also our least favorite Ravenclaw."

Their laughter was cut short when the compartment door slid open, "I do hope you have not been antagonizing my girlfriend like this too long," drawled Abraxas as he entered after Riddle.

Merissa glanced up and smiled at Tom politely, before moving towards Malfoy and embracing him swiftly, "Can we go for a walk?" she asked up at him.

"Ooh it this finally it? Re Thorpe vs Abraxas Malfoy, duel of the century," teased Alphard from behind her, "You haven't even said hello and you're about to get a talkin' to, Malfoy."

Abraxas didn't look pleased about this infamousy, no matter the scope, "Do not be ridiculous Black. Is it not enough that you insist on using that Mugglesque dialect of yours, you can stop calling her that ridiculous nickname. It doesn't make any sense."

"Of course it does! You called her Meri sometimes, right? Well just shorten Meri and you have Re," Alphard argued playfully.

Malfoy scowled, but Merissa pulled his arm gently, "C'mon Abraxas, I don't mind it. Besides, there's no room in this compartment anymore."

Alphard looked pleased and smirked at the couple as they made their way out to the corridor. Once outside, Merissa began to feel anxious. Alphard was always a good laugh, so she had momentarily forgotten her discomfort about her spat with her mother. Now that Abraxas was with her, she longed for the comfort she had originally sought out. They began to walk down the corridor, Merissa picking up her pace as she surveyed the compartments.

"Is something the matter, Mer?" Abraxas asked, watching her peculiar behavior, "Are you looking for something?"

"Mmm," she said as she spied an empty alcove and pulled him into it, "Found it!"

She spun around and pulled him close, leaning in hungrily. He politely obliged her lips, but pulled back when she became uncharacteristically greedy.

He arched an eyebrow at her and let out a nervous laugh, "My dear Mer, this is hardly the time or the place."

"Take me to the time and place then," she insisted, catching his lips again, before he could protest.

He pried her arms off, surprised at her strength and determination as he did so, and held her wrists in one hand, "No Merissa," he said firmly, "This is inappropriate."

"I am upset," she replied crossly, "Distract me, please Abraxas?" she allowed a charming smile to cross her face.

He sighed, exasperated, "What is bothering you? Did you fight with your mother again? Joseph told me that you left all your luggage and he had to bring it onto the train for you."

She grimaced and looked away as she realized she had indeed done that. Unwilling to answer, she pulled at her wrists, which were still clasped in his hand. He allowed them to drop, seeming to decide she was not about to attack him again.

"I may have done that," she muttered to the patterned carpet of the train.

Abraxas frowned and tilted her chin up, "Do not mutter, Merissa, it's unladylike," he scolded her.

She threw her hands up in indignation and pushed him away, proceeding to spin dramatically around and crash into a firm chest, "Watch it!" she snapped, before looking up and meeting the cool eyes of Tom Riddle.

She blinked and almost apologized before she decided she was too angry to make it authentic, so she just moved passed him, cringing slightly as his eyebrows disappeared into the fringe of his dark hair. She moved quickly down the corridor, heading to the front of the train, where the prefect compartment was. When she slid inside she found Joseph was already there, pointedly ignoring the head girl - Minerva McGonagall, a Gryffindor with long brown hair and pretty eyes - and talking with a sixth year Slytherin prefect boy who had arrived to the meeting early.

They all looked up as she closed the door behind herself and her brother scowled at her as she moved over to him, "Done pouting are we? Very well, Abraxas had to help me get your abnormally heavy trunk into here," he kicked her pristine luggage unceremoniously, scowl deepening as this turned out to be a bad idea for his toes, "But here it is. Just hurry, the meeting will start soon."

Merissa didn't have it in her to glare back at him, so she just thanked him quietly and managed to get her trunk out with a minimal amount of commotion. She was careful to not bump anyone, feeling she had already received her quota for glares today. She managed to haul it down the corridor and into her usual compartment where a small gaggle of her peers were seated together. Her vision was momentarily blocked by a mound of red ringlets. She laughed as she pulled back from the petite girl, examining her head with confusion.

"Abigail, what happened to your hair?" she asked, still laughing.

The smaller girl beamed, "I ordered some Madame Culforts finest curling potion! Do you like it? I hoped Edward might, since it adds a few inches. He dated that leggy Hufflepuff last year, you know-"

She was cut off by a low laugh from a tall, olive-skinned girl, "Goodness Bach, let her breathe! She has to go anyways, she has a _prefect_ meeting."

Abigail Bach and Merissa both rolled their eyes at her, "Come here Susan," Merissa insisted, opening an arm, "I do need to go soon but not without saying hello first."

The two girls embraced warmly. Susan was the person Merissa had missed the most over the summer. She greeted the other two people in the compartment, Mary Longbottom and James Patil, before she hurried to the prefect meeting, promising to come back as soon as she could.

"Tell us who the other prefects are when you get back," James requested, "I've heard some pretty wild speculation and I'm wondering if my predictions were correct."

Merissa mockingly saluted him as she made her way out of the compartment. When she entered the prefects compartment for the second time today, Joseph gave her a scalding look which prompted her to move to the open seat next to her prefect counterpart, Edward Thomas. Edward smiled a winning smile at her as she sat down. She supposed it would have been flattering if he hadn't always slightly unnerved her with the size and whiteness of his teeth. She kept her eyes down, avoiding the glare she knew would be ready for her if she made eye contact her brother and twisting a lock of her dark hair around her wand. Once everyone was inside, Joseph began giving them detailed (and extremely long winded) explanations of their prefect duties, and Merissa felt comfortable enough to look up and see who else had been made a prefect this year.

Across from her was an outgoing Gryffindor, Charlus Potter, who offered her a friendly grin as she met his eyes. Next to him was some other Gryffindor, a girl who she knew the face but not the name of. She moved onto an insignificant Hufflepuff boy who was literally on the edge of his seat listening to Joseph's nonsense. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as they panned over the the rest of the members. The other Hufflepuff was Emily Brown, who was known for her exception skills in charms. Olive Hornby was a particularly unpleasant blonde from Slytherin who had apparently been selected to be the new female Slytherin prefect. She looked quite pleased to be next to her co-prefect, Tom Riddle.

Merissa began to blush as she remembered how she had crashed into him only a little while ago, deciding she really should apologize formally for that. She barely knew Riddle, despite Abraxas being his closest friend. He was always aloof and rarely around when she was. This never stopped him from make her uncomfortable though, because all of Abraxas' friends seemed to be both infatuated and terrified of him. As she mused this over, his dark eyes flashed up, seemingly having sensed that she was looking at him. She quickly took a breath and looked back down. She was really going to get Abraxas in trouble now! She silently cursed herself.

The remainder of the meeting went on dully, Merissa being sure that she made no eye contact with anyone else until the end. This meek behavior was leagues from her usual, but she had spent all of her gall earlier today.

When Joseph dismissed them, she was quick to stand up. She didn't see any point in lingering like some of the others did, hoping to make a good impression. Joseph would see right through it anyways. As she was heading back down the corridor, Thomas jogged after her.

"Hey! Thorpe! Merissa! Mer! RE! RE THORPE!" she turned back, slightly annoyed that he had yelled her shortest nickname, which was only to be used with her closest friends.

She smiled pleasantly, despite this, "How can I help you Thomas?" she asked, doing her best to keep the annoyance from her tone.

"I was hoping to discuss patrols. You know, we have one after dinner tonight and wanted to know what your preferences were in general."

"I'd prefer later I guess, just so I can have a chunk of time after dinner for homework" she said shrugging. Conversations with Thomas had always bored her. She could never understand why so many girls flaunted over him.

"Yes, and I suppose those parties of yours don't start until real late anyways," Edward said leaning in, a knowing smirk playing across his face as if that the well known piece of knowledge he had just spouted to her was an astute observation. Merissa jerked back frowning.

While he was speaking, she noticed Riddle making his way down the hall from over Edward's shoulder, "Whatever you want Thomas," she said quickly, hoping to catch Riddle before he passed, "I need to go," she hurried passed him, coming towards the Slytherin prefect.

Tom raised his eyebrows as she did, "Are you going to run into me again?" he asked.

She looked at him carefully. If it was anyone else, she would have laughed and jokingly walked into them, but she couldn't tell if he had meant for the comment to be funny at all, "I wanted to apologize, Riddle," she began seriously, "For running into you and being so rude about it. I am having a very off day, however that is no excuse for my actions."

His eyes were unreadable as he surveyed her face, "That's quite alright, Miss Thorpe," he accepted her apology easily. He was always impossibly polite.

"Right," she agreed nodding; his black eyes were making her uneasy as they seemed to strip into her soul, "Well," she said, putting on the politest smile she could, "I am going to return to my compartment now. I am sure I will see you again soon."

"Have a nice day, Miss Thorpe," he replied cordially, but Merissa could swear he was laughing at her behind his inscrutable mask.

He moved past her, most likely back towards his lair, she thought coolly as she turned to go into her own compartment. Her friends were eager to hear who the new prefects were.

"Of course Edward is," Abby sighed dreamily, and Mary grinned along with her, "He's perfect after all."

Merissa, although slightly hindered by the fact that she was pulling her hair from her bun, pretended to retch. Susan laughed loudly while James smiled to himself, though he was deep into a book.

"Really Patil, consider me shocked that _you_ don't care more about not getting it," Abby said crossly, offended no doubt by the attack on her self-proclaimed future husband, "You could have everyone in bed by ten and spend the rest of the night reading in silence."

"Nah, James is a good sport when it comes to noise, you know that Abby," Susan placated, patting him like a dog, fondly, "Speaking of which, Re, when is the first party of the year going to be?"

Merissa smiled, and leaned back in her seat, considering the prospect. Her mother had been extremely explicit about this kind of behavior, which made her equally eager to begin it. She had just managed to get her hair out of the constricting bun, and it now hung in soft waves past her shoulder blades, "I think Alphard could get us some bottles by this evening if I really bent his arm about it."

"Oh please," Mary laughed, "He is the one who enjoys them the most, except maybe you, Mer. You only have to mention it to him."

Merissa grinned, "Yeah, but don't you feel so much more special this way? Like I have to really work for it for you guys."

"Yeah, okay Re," Susan snorted, nudging her playfully, which spurred a full blown war between them throwing things, and when the trolley came, candy too.

The only force powerful enough to end it, in fact was the slowing of the train, signifying their arrival. Merissa grinned up at Susan, who was flicking various colors of Bearnie Botts Every Flavored Beans off of her robes. The girl noticed her gaze and they spent a moment doing nothing but exchanging fiendish grins, "I think its bound to be a really excellent year."

After all, Hogwarts was synonymous with home for both of them.


	2. White Cashmere

September 1st, 1942

Merissa grappled with her heavy trunk as she stepped off the train, her vision mostly impaired by the hunking leather mass in her arms. She had lost her friends in the crowd, her luggage slowing her down.

"Honestly dear, sometimes you forget you're a witch," came a voice from beyond her small slit of vision past the trunk. From the sigh she could tell it was her boyfriend, "Set it down."

She obeyed, and he levitated it to join his suitcase, moving them onto a carriage. She cautiously observed his tall frame as he helped her into the stagecoach. He was really quite handsome, merely objectively even. He had pretty grey eyes and his white blonde hair was always impeccable. His nails were always better kept than even hers, she thought as she fiddled nervously with his hand.

The two spots across theirs stayed unoccupied until the last moment when the entire carriage was jostled making them both start up. Lestrange's large frame had sprung on the step with the direction of a bloodhound. He gave them a wolfish smile as he called out the door, "There's room in here, Riddle."

Merissa's eyes flickered to Abraxas', however he looked as confused as her. He regained his composure as Tom ducked into the carriage and took a moment to get comfortable in his seat before he acknowledged them.

"You should keep your voice down around ladies, Lestrange. Miss Thorpe looks rather faint," he commented, making her cheeks change in a moment from ghostly white to a flushed pink.

"I'm fine," she began harshly before catching Abraxas' eyes, "Riddle," she added after a beat, though it did little to make her sound anymore civil.

"I'm sure she meant 'thank you for your genuine concern, Riddle," Abraxas amended, bowing his head slightly.

She would have normally given her boyfriend a sneer for attempting to talk for her, whether it be for the better or worse. However, there must have been something in the air of the carriage, because she found she could not bring herself to look up at anyone. She conceded to nudge Abraxas, though she wondered if he even noticed with the stiff way he was holding himself.

For the rest of the carriage ride, she traced the patterns on the silk hangings of the windows with her eyes, watching Riddle out of the corner so she could see if he looked angry. His face stayed a calm mask as he read this year Charm's textbook all the way up to Hogwarts. He was nearly done, which was impressive given he couldn't have bought it more than two weeks ago, as this was when their books lists had come. Merissa guessed this wasn't unusual however, as no one commented on it, even as Abraxas struggled to make small talk.

She was quick to exit when they came to the castle and left them all behind. Malfoy's stride, however, was long, and he soon caught up to her, looking miffed that he had had to deal with her trunk for the third time today. It bobbed behind him with his own, looking quite threatening for what they were.

"I am not your house-elf Merissa," he said crossly, pulling her aside from the wave of students entering, "I do not appreciate being treated this way. Why are you upset with me?"

Merissa sighed and looked up at him. She wasn't mad at him really, and she was reasonable enough to recognize she was being cruel, "I'm sorry Abraxas."

She sighed again, focusing her eyes on a spot in the middle of his forehead. She didn't like to look him in the eyes when they argued, as it felt too intimate, "It won't happen again. I'm having a hard time dealing with the new pressures of being a prefect is all. I don't want to disappoint anyone," (that was a lie), "Especially not you," (that was half true).

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, lifting her chin up the way he so often did, using just his thumb. It made her feel like a child, "My little dove, you'd never disappoint me,"

She smiled softly at him. For all his flaws, he was always gentle with her, "Thank you. We should go though."

"Correct," he said, looking pleased and letting her chin go, "We don't want to give anyone the wrong idea about what we we're doing."

 _As if_ , she snorted internally as they went to their respective tables. Abraxas and her were nothing if not proper.

She wedged herself between Abby and Susan, ignoring their questioning looks, before their attention was diverted to the gang of terrified looking first years who were being lead into the great hall by a jovial Professor Merrythought.

"They get scrawnier every year," Susan noted, "We were never so small."

"The war has taken a toll on everyone," Abby reminded her, "Even a few wizarding families lost their homes in the last air raid. They probably just aren't getting enough food at home."

Susan's cheerful expression was washed from her face, nodding and letting her eyes drop to the table. For people who came from families like her's and Merissa's, it was easy to forget how the Muggle war was changing the world for most. Coming from a line of stable wealth and blood purity shadowed certain things from their perspectives. Merissa at least could empathize.

"They'll fattened up after a few weeks of eating here," Merissa assured her, "I always do."

This hardly comforted Susan, and she kept her eyes on the scrawniest of the new students for the entirety of the sorting, her lips in a hard line.

When at last 'Zabini, John' was sorted into Slytherin, Headmaster Dippet rose and gave a few (or few thousand) words. Everyone expression's seem to glaze over during this part of the opening ceremony. Dippet, a great fan of rules, had taken to listing off all of them so first years could not claim ignorance. The only person who ever paid him any mind at this time was Edward Thomas who was furiously scribbling down notes as the Headmaster spoke. Merissa indicated him with a nod of her head to Susan and both of them had to suppress laughs before receiving rather harsh nudges from Abby. As Dippet finished off his list he scanned the students, particularly seeming to give Alphard Black a significant look when he discussed how alcohol was strictly prohibited in any part of the castle. Merissa grinned at him from across the tables.

When Dippet had finished speaking the feast appeared, lavish and plentiful as ever. Susan however, instead of engorging herself in the food as usual, spent the feast encouraging a meek blonde first year to eat. The girl looked quite intimidated as the Amazonian-looking woman dished a third helping of pork chops onto her plate, ignoring her soft cries of protest.

As soon as Merissa herself had eaten a reasonable amount, she slunk to the Slytherin table and plunked down between Alphard and Abraxas. No one batted an eye, as this was a regular occurrence.

"So, as Dippet just mentioned, there will be no tomfoolery this year, Mr. Black," she began very seriously. Abraxas dared look hopeful for a moment before she smirked, "So can you get us some firewhiskey tonight or not?"

Abraxas made a point to sigh very audibly at her, for which he received a saccharine smile that made him turn his attention back to Riddle. Tom was not even talking, though many of his gang were looking at him like he might, and that they wanted to be ready if this was so.

Alphard however, did not turn away from her, but smirked back, "Absolutely, but Miss, I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to allow you in. You see we have a no prefect policy, I'm sure you understand. We've got standards to uphold, and we can't have any old bookworms or goody two shoes - hey!" she had smacked his shoulder.

"Well it's a good thing Thorpe is none of those," Andrew Nott grinned from across the table, allowing his attention away from Riddle for a moment, who still was not talking, but methodically eating his roasted chicken breast.

"Oh don't be a spoilsport," laughed Mulciber, looking up too, "Good old Thorpe, always providing such a wide diversity of her pretty-bird friends. Never unappreciated," he gave her a heavy wink.

"Even if you only get to look at them, Mulciber?" challenged Merissa, winking back and leaning across the table as if they were sharing a secret.

It looked rather silly when he recoiled from her proximity, given that he weighed about three times what she did. He was still scowling, but even Abraxas allowed a chuckle, and he usually disapproved of her giving anyone cheek.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be as lucky as Malfoy here and have a dame delivered to us in pretty wrappings now can we," Mulciber shot back waspishly while stabbing into a potato.

Merissa hid a grin and returned to the bench, crossing a leg under her skirt to sit on. The longer the summer vacation, the thinner she got, and the less comfortable the wooden benches became. It would be several weeks before she returned to her normal size.

"Anyways," said Alphard, drawing out the word, "I'll have the bottles in the Slytherin common room by nine, do come if you can get off your _prefect_ duties in time."

"Does that sound okay to you, Riddle?" Abraxas asked, genuinely concerned, "I wouldn't want us to disturb you, if you wanted quiet to prepare for tomorrow's lessons."

Merissa watched as everyone else's eyes flickered to Tom apprehensively. He chewed for longer than she thought was necessary before swallowing, taking a sip from his goblet and responding coolly, "I hardly need silence to prepare for classes. Otherwise I would be quite unable to do so most nights. Either way, I plan to be working in the library most of the evening."

Abraxas blushed furiously and averted his eyes from his leader. Merissa's eyes narrowed; for all the issues she had with Abraxas, she was still protective. She watched as Riddle cut his chicken with his salad fork. It suddenly struck her that for all his politeness, he didn't seem to know much about the etiquette of some things. She took a very purposeful drink of pumpkin juice from Abraxas' glass before looking at Riddle directly, something most people avoided.

"Surely you'd be kind enough to join us for a little, Riddle?" she asked, keeping her tone perfectly polite.

Given everyone's reaction, it had still been a unspeakable act.

Abraxas dropped his fork and as it clattered noisily on his plate it intensified the silence that had just broken along half the table. Mulciber's jaw hung open, Lestrange looked scandalized. Even Alphard looked concerned, his eyes darting between her and Riddle.

Only Tom and Merissa kept their composure, though Merissa thought his eyes might've darkened momentarily. He took an ever longer drink than she had, seemingly asserting his dominance in air of her brash act.

He patted his mouth with the napkin from his lap, surveying her with his unreadable black eyes, "I am sure I could not deny you my presence if you requested it, Miss Thorpe," he replied, making it sound like it was profoundly generous of him.

She smiled at him, though it looked much more like she was baring her teeth, "I will look so forward to seeing you then."

It was almost a challenge.

She swept away, somewhat consciously trying to be dramatic. She was feeling quite a flair today, as she left the entire table looking thunderstruck.

She wasn't even halfway back to her table before she began regretting her decision immensely. She didn't know much about Tom Riddle, but she knew that there was something about him that intimidated the entire Slytherin house, which was no easy feat. Additionally, he was the only student at Hogwarts that regularly bested her.

 _Well, we'll just have to change that_ , she thought irritably, sitting back down, just as dessert appeared.

She listlessly swirled the melted mint ice cream in her bowl some time later. She had hardly eaten a bite of her dessert, but she had also barely looked up from it, not even to notice Abby giggling at Susan who was forcing treacle tart upon the same first year she had force fed dinner, as well as two others who were unfortunate enough to be sitting nearby.

"Have cream too," Susan insisted, dolling a small mountain onto a stringy red headed boy's plate, completely obscuring the sizable piece of pie she had dished onto his plate, "It has lots of fat in it. Good for growing."

The boy exchanged a apprehensive look with his friend who Susan was now also forcing cream upon, before she cried in what she believed to be an encouraging voice, "Eat!", making them both jump and obey.

Susan finally seemed satisfied and sat back down on the bench, ignoring Abby and Mary's sniggers. Merissa was still making waves of mint and chocolate, continuing until the feast was over. As the feast ended, Edward shook her shoulder violently, after calling her name several times had failed to pull her from her reprieve.

"Merlin, Thorpe," he laughed, as she finally looked up, "What do I have to do to get your attention?"

"Sorry," she mumbled, " We should get the first years together," then, not feeling like herding them individually she shouted, "Oi, you lot! Little firsties."

Joseph looked at her from his table, like he thought her own rudeness would rub off onto him. She just sneered at him until he looked away.

"This way," she said, expression softening as she saw many of the first years who had gathered around her looked like they might cry if she was harsh again. She lead her flock of ducklings up to the highest tower.

When they finally reached the entrance to the common room, many of them were gasping for breath, which she found a little dismal; she was no athlete herself, but this was ridiculous. The red headed boy who Susan had stuffed with tart and pie was leaning over banister looking ill. Thomas patted him on the back while Merissa explained, "This is the entrance to our dormitories, to get in it will ask you a riddle."

Right on cue, the bronze eagle knocker animated and said in a sharp tone, "What gets wetter the more it dries?"

"A towel," her fellow prefect said easily, walking up and displaying his perfect teeth to her. The entrance opened and many of the first years gasped.

Edward stopped Merissa from following after them, shouting, "Boys on the left, girls on the right!" and then at a normal volume, "Want to just patrol now? I heard you're having a party tonight. I called that by the way."

"Yes, you're a real Ravenclaw alright," she muttered, walking with him down the stairs.

He glanced at her with interest, "You're a real cynic this year, Merissa. I mean you've always been kind of sarcastic, but something seems to really be bugging you, yeah?"

 _Oh he's so perceptive_ , she heard Abby's voice in her head, _so romantic and sensitive._ Personally, Merissa thought he was just being far too forward. There was plenty bothering her: her mother, her dissatisfaction with her life and the way it was making her lash out, such as the issue with Riddle she had created.

"I don't really want to discuss such personal matters, Thomas," she said.

Attempting to channel Abraxas as she added coolly, "It's inappropriate."

Thomas's eyes widened and he ducked his head, so she felt pretty confident in her performance.

She was wishing she felt as bold as she had earlier, now that she was returning to the common room with Edward over an hour later, their patrols being over now. They hadn't seen anyone else during their walk, as it seemed Professor Dippet's lecture was still fresh in most people's minds.

"See you, Thorpe," Thomas said dully. She had closed the door on several other conversations he had tried to begin in the last hour, so he had low expectations about her giving him a warm goodbye.

Confirming his suspicions, she simply nodded. The prospect of facing Riddle again was weighing down on her now. She had no reason to be afraid of him, except for the mere reason that she didn't know what to expect from him. There was no fear of her's stronger than the fear of the unknown.

Merissa went up the stairs to the girl's dormitories to meet with Susan, Abby and Mary so that they could all walk down together. The door to the fifth years rooms was just a flight more of steps than the fourth year dormitory they had been in last year, but Merissa could swear she could feel the extra steps in her legs, grateful when she reached the correct platform.

"Did you invite him?" Abby cried as soon as Merissa slipped through the door.

"I - who?" Merissa stammered, eyes wide as a ball of red curls nearly tackled her.

"Well did you?" Mary demanded, also coming up to Merissa. If the two of them weren't shorter than her, the way they were cornering her against the door would have been threatening. They were both visibly impassioned.

"Thomas" Susan sighed, nimbly hoping off her bed to cease the interrogation, "They've been up here all but putting lots on whether or not you'd invite him to the party tonight."

"Hard to take lots when we both agreed that she would," Abby snipped before returning her eyes eagerly to Merissa, "Did you?"

"No."

Mary groaned theatrically and Abby looked equally disappointed. Merissa shook her head at them, moving towards her trunk. She had to paw through most of the contents to find a coat. She was careful to replace all of her extra potions ingredients back inside, which were responsible for most of the bulk of her large case. Some of them were explosive after all; they needed particular placing.

When she had stood back up, Mary was still moping, "Maybe he'll be in the common room and you could ask him then?" she mused, pulling at the ends of her dirty blonde bob, "There's not going to be any good looking boys there otherwise, except Abraxas."

"I may not have invited Thomas, but I did invite Riddle," Merissa said, standing in front of the large mirror they had propped against the wall and starting to fiddle with her own locks, waiting for Abby to finish strapping on her shoes.

"He's very handsome," Susan nodded, face neutral. Merissa could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears while she said this simple statement, however. Susan was a Nigellus, and her cousins were all in Slytherin. Not that you particularly need first hand accounts to know about Tom Riddle.

"If you like the brooding type," Abby frowned, "I'm not fond of him."

"Sorry," Merissa shrugged. She was having trouble deciding how to wear her hair, twisting and yanking it to various styles before eventually tossing it back down, surrendering.

"I'm ready now," she sighed.

The group made their way down the stairs, meeting with another group of several sixth and a few seventh year Ravenclaws. Merissa found that she was greeting and embracing them without really hearing a word anyone was saying. She was a prodigy at pretending.

She spotted James across the room, curled up onto an armchair, gazing into the fireplace with a pensive look. A book was dangling from his hands, forgotten and in danger of dropping in between his crossed legs. She moved over and put a hand lightly on his shoulder.

He looked around at her after a moment, as if he had expected her. Few things seemed to ever take him off guard.

"Hey Mer."

"Hey there," she greeted, matching his soft tone.

James was probably the most unexpected member of her group, at least upon first inspection. He was a small, stringy dark boy with eyes far too large for his head. Second year, before they had become friends, Susan had joked that he looked like an owl, earning a lecture from Abby. Up until third year, he was in and out of Hogwarts because of medical issues, but fourth year they had grown close. There was something incredibly genuine about him that had drawn Merissa in.

"Sitting this one out?" she joked. She made the same joke every time they left for a party, just in case he ever changed his mind. He never did.

"Yeah. You know, headaches," he replied. This was also a standard response.

She smiled and squeezed his arm as she started to leave when he suddenly reached out to take her hand.

"What's wrong?" she said quickly, turning to him. Because James so rarely had anything to say she was sure to listen when he did. He looked at her confused, seeming to grapple with words for a moment.

"G . . . Going to the party tonight would be bad idea," he finally said, looking at her, "Because of Riddle."

"Oh you heard too?" she groaned, "People are such gossips. No matter, I'll be fine, James. I appreciate your concern."

"You never know what the consequences could be," he said somberly, but then turned away from her, ending the conversation as abruptly as he had began it.

"Right," she muttered, almost to herself as she left, Abby beckoning her out the door. Most of the group had already exited, starting the long descent. James often said things that she was sure were not meant for her to understand.

Heading towards the Slytherin common room accompanied by her friends, she grew further restless. Would he already be inside? The mere thought made her anxious to start drinking so that her pounding heart might be slowed and her burning nerves numbed. Maybe she could appear her normal self then.

Abraxas was waiting like a perfect gentleman for her as soon as she entered the dungeon. The group of girls she was with cooed over his protectiveness for a few moments, before they continued on.

Abraxas and her walked along just behind them in silence. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something several times but closed it just as swiftly. Merissa did not press the issue as she was sure he was debating whether to lecture her on inviting Riddle to a party when she knew how much he despised them.

Upon entering, she began to scan the room. It looked like any other party so far. There was a disproportionate amount of blokes in Slytherin in the older years, so almost all of them were already there, as well as the small assortment of Slytherin girls. The brunt of the female attendance had just come with Merissa, and as Mulciber's words from dinner echoed in her head, she was careful to note everyone who had come with her. She would be able to account for them later on in the night.

She ducked as a fanged frisbee she recognized as Lestrange's nearly grazed her head. He caught it with an experienced hand and gave her an unpleasant smile as he called out, "Better watch out, Thorpe."

His voice lacked any apology, real of faked, so she just glared at him. Abraxas tugged her deeper into the party, hoping to remove her from trouble before it could manifest. In the near center of the room, Alphard and Andrew were playing a dramatic game of Exploding Snap, surrounded by people either watching, talking or drinking. A few brave souls had started dancing or swaying to the jazzy tune being emitted by a shiny phonograph perched on a central table.

After a brief scan, it was also clear that Riddle had not made his appearance yet, and this calmed Merissa a great deal.

She quickly made her way over to the phonograph table which was ringed with a plethora of bottles, just has Alphard had promised. She grinned, and poured herself a couple overflowing shots, grimacing at the taste but reveling in the relief it brought her. She was shooting back the second when she laughed, "I see Riddle hasn't bothered to show up yet."

"Here, I'm cutting you off early," said Abraxas, skillfully slipping the bottle out of her hands as she attempted to pour another shot.

She was about to complain, however he started before she could, "What on earth is your problem today? First you throw yourself on me, then you act upset and you're rude to Riddle not once, but twice. Now you're trying to drink yourself into a stupor? You know your limitations."

She looked away from him.

"Look at me!" he demanded sharply, and she did, "What is wrong?"

She bit her lip. For the second time today she was confronted with that pesky question for which she had no real answer, not even to herself. She allowed her eyes to focus on the point in the middle of his forehead again before responding.

"I don't like the way he talks to you."

He looked at her blankly, "He's Riddle. He's impeccably polite."

Merissa was annoyed, "Don't play dumb with me, Malfoy. You know exactly what I'm talking about. He's not being polite, he's acting like he's better than everyone else."

"He is better than everyone else," Abraxas deadpanned. She scoffed and pushed her way past him to join the party.

She got quite out of control that night, even for her standards. Even though her ever responsible boyfriend officially cut her off, she was sneaking drinks throughout the night, mostly from Alphard's personal bottle, becoming more and more boisterous. She was laughing outrageously at Mulciber's jokes and dancing with Abby wildly. Usually Abraxas would have fun as well - never as much of course - but he would still indulge her. He knew almost all his friends adored her and the fun she usually brought. Tonight she was a full time job. Currently, she was sitting on the back on the couch, feet barely brushing the ground as she swung them back and forth, talking to Alphard.

Someone had released a snitch in the room and it was flitting around their heads, swerving as people jumped for it. The tiny winged ball was not having to work hard as everyone was far too distracted by either music, games or drinks. Alphard saw it coming and snatched it out of the air, making Druella Rosier squeal in excitement from the other side of the sofa.

"500 points to Slytherin!" she cried raising her small glass of elf-made wine as a toast to him.

"It's 150, Druella," Alphard corrected her kindly while Merissa rolled her eyes and whispered fairly audibly, "Dolt."

Alphard's lips twitched, though he was now leaning over the seat to listen to Rosier while her twin brother, Davao, tried to regain her attention.

Abraxas supposed that most people would be jealous of all the attention Merissa received. To him it was just testament to what a prize she was. Additionally, he honestly didn't think anyone other than himself and maybe Avery or Riddle was in her league, and neither ever gave her a second glance. Regardless, the way she was crossing her legs currently, the lacy top of her stockings were starting to show, and Travers was eyeing them over Lestrange's shoulder from a few feet away. It was time to intervene.

"Come here, love," he said gently, pulling her off the couch and tugging her skirt down. She looked at him dazedly before she giggled and slurred, "Okay _mother_."

"You're drunk, dear," he informed her seriously. She shooed him away, before smiling deviously, eyes flickering to the firewhiskey Alphard was nursing.

"No," Abraxas said forcefully, but she laughed and evaded his grasp, snagging the bottle from her friend.

Alphard laughed instead of stopping her, watching as she darted between his fellow housemates. She jumped onto a chair and waved the bottle at them, tauntingly.

"This is very immature, Merissa," sighed Abraxas, "I am not going to chase you."

Her smile faltered, "You're no fun, first I can't kiss you and now you won't play. . . but I know where you will chase me to."

She grinned, leaping off the chair and rushing up the steps to the dormitories. Abraxas watched her go, attempting to muster irritation. He simply knew her too well. Alphard was laughing to himself as he grabbed another bottle of firewhiskey, his previous one now being held hostage. He pushed the wax back from the top with a well trained thumb as he walked back over to his dumbstruck dorm mate and clapped him on the back.

"She's a firecracker alright," he said brightly, taking a swig of the new bottle.

Abraxas glowered at him. Alphard had grown up with them, and was like a brother to Merissa, but lately he had been a bit too eager to be her friend. Abraxas considered him a horrible influence, given his affinity to all things exciting, Muggle or otherwise. Additionally, his care-free hair was getting far too long for respect.

"Give me that," Abraxas snapped, grabbing the handle and taking a long drink himself. He was having a horrible night sober, so maybe it would be more bearable drunk.

Alphard watched as Abraxas ascended the stairs, looking far less eager that most would to extract his girlfriend from his bedroom. Once his blond head had disappeared, Alphard picked up his third bottle now, and headed over to the tables where Susan and Abby were sitting.

Upstairs, Merissa had been waiting on Abraxas' bed for awhile, before becoming bored. She was now rummaging through his trunk, not finding much of anything. When he came in she was knelt down next to it, pawing through his scarves.

"These are all so soft," she said, looking up with huge eyes as he made his way over, "When did they get so soft? I would sleep in a pile of them if I could."

"Those were in a particular order you know," he told her.

She looked confused by this, so he sighed, picking her up and placing her on his desk chair, "I'm horrible for letting you do this to yourself. They are all a bunch of alcoholics."

"Mmm" she hummed, leaning her head against her hand, her elbow propped on his desk, "You have a bottle too now. Are you joining the party?"

"No," he said sternly, brushing her disheveled hair off her forehead. She smiled dreamily at him as he fixed her up, pulling her hair back and straightening her tie. As he began wiping up her smudged makeup she laughed softly.

"Do I look like a real girl again?" she asked.

"You look like a real young lady," he corrected, "Will you come back down now?"

"Only if I get to bring a soft, squishy scarf," she bargained, securing herself to the chair with her hands in case he tried to move her without her consent. She was quite set on having her way, as usual.

"Fine," he agreed, moving to his trunk and tossing her a white one, "Just be careful with it, it's cashmere."

She rolled her eyes at him as she wrapped the long piece of ivory fabric around her neck a few times before pulling her dark waves over it. She then allowed him to tow her down the stairs, stumbling slightly. Just as they had reached the bottom, they were met by a tall figure attempting to go up to the dormitories.

"H-hello Riddle," Abraxas stammered, clearly thrown off by his sudden appearance, "How was the library?"

"Fine," said the dark haired boy, sounding bored, "Pleasure to see you again, Miss Thorpe."

She nodded her head to him, feeling Abraxas' warning eyes on her, "Are you joining the party soon, Riddle?"

"Soon enough I am sure," he said coolly, "Excuse me."

He swept up the stairs, robes brushing behind him. He disappeared through the door they had just descended from. Abraxas was shaking slightly, either from anger or fear. She was just offended.

Alphard came over, looking concerned, "You two doing alright?" he asked, hesitantly touching Merissa's shoulder. He knew how shaken she could get the first few days back, as she adjusted from complete tyrannical rule to comparative free reign. He also frequently lost it a bit, which might be why he had had about a third of a bottle himself so far.

"I'd be fine if he stopped acting like a prat," she said loudly, brushing off Alphard's hand as she flipped her borrowed scarf back.

"Lower your voice, Merissa," Abraxas said gravely, "People are staring."

"No."

Joseph was nearby enough to hear this and frowned at her, stepping closer. He had not been drinking himself of course, so his cheeks lacked the light flush that the majority of the room was sporting and his voice retained all of its sharpness, "Listen to your boyfriend, little sister. You're making a spectacle of yourself."

With his words all amusement left Merissa's eyes.

"You all always tell me not to do things. Don't drink that. Don't do that. Don't say that to Riddle, ugh!" suddenly she grinned, "Speaking of which. . ."

"Absolutely not!" thundered Abraxas, realizing what she meant a moment too late. Merissa had already started running back up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. She heard them hurry after her, so she whispered a spell just as she got to the fifth year boys' dorm. Even as drunk as she was, the stairs turned into a slide, and she heard her pursuers crash back into the common room with a storm of curses. She smiled to herself as she opened the door.

/_\

Riddle had not been joking when he said he was preparing for tomorrow's classes. In the short time he had been in the dormitory he had spread out his papers on his bed and was now reading the material for Transfiguration. He looked up from his book as he heard a commotion downstairs. Merissa Thorpe burst into the room a moment later, giggling and holding a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey under her arm. She looked ridiculous with an over-sized scarf draped around her neck and her white button-up shirt coming untucked from her skirt.

He was surprised. Although she had challenged him, he had planned to come down at the last moments of the party, to show her he could do how he pleased. Instead, she had come to him, early even, and that was very foolish of her.

He noticed she looked disheartened when she met his frigid gaze, though to her credit, she continued fairly steadily into the room nonetheless, "I thought you said you'd come down, Riddle, but here you are, alone. . . studying."

She slightly stumbled over her own tongue saying this, and Tom understood. She was not brave - she simply had liquid bravery in her.

He closed his book with a snap and observed her from his reclined position. She seemed wary of him, but still met his eyes with more certainty than almost anyone ever had. He blinked back before responding, "I must have lost track of time. When I did not see you at the party downstairs, so I assumed it was not time yet. How rude of me to keep you waiting, Miss Thorpe."

He hadn't meant for it to be sarcastic, but it sounded a bit, as he was thrown off by her assertiveness and could not form the sentence as perfectly as he generally did. He let it go though, as he suspected she was too drunk to notice or remember. Despite this, her eyes remained steady and he began to feel uneasy, which was ridiculous.

He cleared his throat and swung his legs down from his bed. His sudden movement had made her flinch, so he was pleased enough again to offer her his arm. She took it hesitantly, and he was satisfied that he had intimidated her. He proceeded to crush her hand in the nook of his arm, for good measure. His expression was kept mild, although she knew he was daring her to pull away. He opened the door and was about to step out before she stopped him.

"I - er . . ."

He looked at the smooth slide that was once a staircase, "No matter," he said calmly, although he knew that was rather complicated bit of transfiguration, " _Reverti_."

The stairs formed again and Merissa's very distressed boyfriend was immediately up the stairs with Alphard just behind him. They stopped abruptly when they saw the two of them descending the steps easily.

"Good evening Malfoy, Black," Tom greeted, "Your charming girlfriend was kind enough to come and remind me of the promise I made to come to this gathering. I'm not one to break my word after all," his dark eyes danced with amusement at their astonished faces.

Meanwhile, Merissa couldn't help but notice that he did not make the distinction that she was Abraxas' girlfriend, and not Alphard's, which she was quite sure was no accident.

"Shall we get you a drink, Mr. Riddle?" she asked, mirroring his politeness as she guided him past the two and into the room.

"Why thank you," Tom said, though she was positive that she was going to pay for this stunt. She knew Riddle hated alcohol, but denying his hostess would be ill-mannered.

Those who had noticed the handsome boy's arrival were either sobering quickly or peering at him with great interest. Riddle had quite a reputation - being a partier was certainly not a part of it. Finally making it to a couch, they sat down together, and Merissa pulled her hand out from his crushing grip. She had a strong suspicion it would be bruised by morning, however, the amount of firewhiskey she had already consumed allowed her to ignore it easily.

"Here," she said, handing him the bottle she had clung onto throughout all of this, "You'll have to catch up."

He accepted it from her, but did not drink, "Do you perhaps have a more sanitary way of drinking this other than just taking swigs?" he questioned.

Merissa wanted to grimace at this. He was holding his ground and belittling her, all while keeping a polite facade. Anyone watching would have thought they were best of acquaintances. No wonder they were all so afraid of him. It was rare for her to be upstaged by anyone.

"Here, Riddle," Abraxas said, handing him one of the few clean glasses left. He stayed hovering from behind the couch, eyes flickering between the two. He had seen firsthand the kind of damage Tom could inflict, yet Merissa was completely untouched. He didn't buy that it had been for his benefit either.

Tom didn't take one look at Abraxas as he took the glass from him, and poured a moderate serving. He began to sip, not showing any discomfort at the strong taste and keeping his eyes glued to his hostess. Eventually, it was Merissa who looked away, glancing up to see Olive Hornby coming up to them.

"Hello Riddle!" Olive said brightly, clearly a bit drunk herself, "I haven't seen you at one of these before, and believe me, I've looked."

Merissa looked down, embarrassed for the girl who she usually felt so much animosity towards. Hornby and her friends fawned over Tom, not that he acknowledged any of them without social obligation. Merissa was confident that a large reason he didn't come down to these events was to avoid this exact sort of confrontation. That and he was a bore.

Tom smiled smoothly at her regardless of his feelings, "Pleasure to see you here, Miss Hornby. It was actually Miss Thorpe who insisted I join today, so you have her to thank for this unusual occurrence."

"Right," said Olive, giving the other girl a confused glance before returning her eyes hungrily to Riddle and flipping her light hair back flirtatiously.

Merissa was no longer interested in this conversation, so she sighed and got up, making her way towards a corner table where her friends were laughing, unaffected by the new addition to the party. There was no point trying to out Riddle while he was so much more cognitively able than she was. She would have to wait for another, more sober time. Before she could make it to the table, however, she was intercepted by her boyfriend, who was looking furious.

"We need to discuss something," he snarled, and began dragging her to the corridor, "This is _private,_ Black!" he added when her friend attempted to come to her rescue.

Merissa followed Abraxas dully. Her buzz was beginning to wear off, and now she just wanted to escape back to her common room. There was no reason for her to stay at this party now. Abraxas spun around at her as soon as they were outside the party.

They both stared at each other for a moment. It was completely silent in the hall except for the sounds they made, amplifying Abraxas' rough breathes. Merissa opened her mouth to make a snarky comment, but before she could form a syllable, Malfoy's hand swung out and jerked her head with a hard slap. His family crest ring dug hard into the softest spot of her cheek. The sound of the blow echoed off the walls and reverberated in her head, as if repeating the same wordless message to her that her mind could not comprehend now. She was too shocked to react at all, except to turn her head back to look at him. Abraxas had never been physical with her before.

"How dare you," he whispered, voice quavering, "You may never speak to Riddle like that. You will hold your tongue."

He was not yelling, but in a way Merissa wished he was. She was used to her father yelling and hitting anything in his path. Something about this quiet was even colder. She had never seen Abraxas this furious.

"I didn't do anything," she stated flatly, meeting his steely eyes.

His hand twitched again like it longed to hit her again, though he did not. His eyes had never quite reminded her as much of cold metal before, "You know _exactly_ what you did, Thorpe."

She wanted to wince at his cool use of her surname, but she refused to let her blank expression crack. She was not some child he could scold.

He took a deep breath in and ripped his eyes away from her, proceeding to talk to the gargoyle she was pressed up against, "You will not speak to him again. You will go inside, and tell your friends you are tired. Then you will return to your common room. Your mother will not hear of this. It never happened as far as anyone else is concerned."

He turned on his heel and marched down the hall. Merissa vaguely wondered where he was going, before realizing she really didn't care. She touched her cheek gingerly and felt a welt forming where his ring had hit her. Normally, he would have taken her face into consideration, constructing some story together, like when she had marks from her parents. Today it seemed she was on her own.

She hissed the password, and re-entered the party. It had fizzled out in her absence, although she thought that was more likely not because of the lack of her presence, but the presence of Riddle. He was still on the couch, surrounded by a gaggle of girls and a few of his regular friends, listening to him reverently. None of them acknowledged her as she came in.

"Great party, eh?" Susan droned, coming up to her. She looked like she hadn't gotten drunk enough to still be enjoying herself - Merissa could relate, "Really raging."

"I need to go to bed," Merissa said mechanically as Abby and Alphard joined them, "I am very tired, and we have Herbology in the morning."

"Yeah, I reckon you'll have to get a full nights sleep to start wrestling with those - hey!" Alphard cut himself off, cupping her cheek on his palm so he could examine the opposite side of her face better. Merissa winced, knowing all too well he would recognize exactly what it was.

"What in Merlin's name, Re," Susan asked, expression darkening.

While it was true that Merissa often had marks when she boarded the Hogwarts Express in the beginning of the year and returning from breaks, a list was noted and nothing was ever added while she was at school. Susan had silently taken inventory of her scratched hand and bruised collarbone over dinner.

"It's a mosquito bite," Merissa fabricated swiftly, eyes darting to the nearby couch. She didn't want to cause a scene, particularly this close to Slytherin's worst.

"That's not from a bug, Re," Alphard said, releasing her face, "Did he hit you? Why?"

"Its a bug bite," Merissa insisted, pushing past them, "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"Merissa. . ." Abby said quietly.

"Goodnight," Merissa insisted without looking back and her small friends broken expression.

Her eyes stung as she made her way through the dim corridors, not bothering to camouflage herself. Luck it seemed, was on her side for this portion of the night, for as she stalked all the way up the stairs she met no one. The marble drummed lightly under her hurried feet, echoing slightly in the emptiness, but drawing no one's attention. Even Abraxas was no where to be seen, though she refused to wonder where he was again. She found herself vehemently hoping that he got caught out of bed.

She finally came to the common room door and stopped, coming face to face with the knocker. Sighing, she realizing she would be on her own unlocking the entrance. Generally, this would be a breeze. This evening her mind felt foggy and muddled.

"The more you take, the more you leave behind," the bronze knocker stated.

"Pride," she said dryly, before adding quickly, "No, that wasn't a real guess. Let me think."

She looked up at the high arch which outlined the entrance. If she was honest, she was lucky to have made it this far unnoticed. The smart thing to do now would be to cast a disillusionment charm on herself and wait for some of her housemates to creep up from the party and solve it for her. She was sure she would hear them coming on the stairs . . .

"Footsteps," she exclaimed, clapping her own hand over her mouth in surprise as the sound echoed. She could have sworn she heard someone coming, so she quickly walked through the recently materialized doorway, hearing it close just as she made it through the common room.

She managed to hold it together until she was in the privacy of her four poster bed, curtains drawn. No moonlight managed to pass through the cracks, and inside it was like being in a shadowy abyss. She tugged off the scarf she had earlier abducted, flinging it to the ground. _I hope it gets dirty_ , she thought vindictively. Laying down and looking at the satin canopy above, she allowed a stream of silent tears to leak onto her pillow for some time. When no more came, she rolled over and fell into a fitful slumber.


	3. Mutual Misunderstandings

**Hi guys! I just wanted to thank all of you who have been following, favoriting, and commenting. It makes such a difference in my day. Anyways, this is a big chapter, so I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

September 2nd, 1942

"Get up you bent heel!"

Alphard groaned and rolled over on the couch, gazing blearily from between his cracked eyelids. Even in this state he recognized the figure by its height and shock of light hair. Not to mention, who else would wake him at this hour?

"What in the name of Merlin's good Sunday shoes do you want, Malfoy?" Alphard growled, sitting up.

He had hoped to strangle Abraxas upon first appearance, however the firewhiskey lingering in his system proved to make this difficult. He apparently had moved too quickly, for the blond boy shook and doubled in his vision as he struggled to hold down vomit. As Alphard attempted to steady his breaths, clinging onto the arm of a nearby chair, the floor slowly stopped spinning and he managed to glare up again. The stare lacked some of its intended ferocity, however and Abraxas was unconcerned by it.

"I'm going to kill you," Alphard threatened breathily, "We had a deal. You broke it."

He attempted to stand again but stumbled back into the couch, his head making a loud clunk on the high backrest this time. Bright lights danced in his vision as he was forced to blink wildly at Malfoy.

"You're a filthy drunk," Abraxas scorned as he watched his housemate disdainfully. Lately, Alphard's drinking had gone from occasional to habitual as the expectations of his parents grew.

"That's hardly fair, Malfoy," Alphard said, still unable to look up at him without feeling queasy, "I'm not drunk anymore. . . well I don't think so anyways."

Abraxas laughed humorlessly, "I doubt you would recognize yourself sober."

"We all self-medicate somehow. My methods tend to be more literal," Alphard argued, "And I think your authority lecturing me on emotional management is gone after last night."

Abraxas snorted humorously through his nose and wretched Alphard up by his arm, dragging him towards the dormitory entrances. Alphard's world began whirling uncontrollably as he forced bile down, half wanting to let it up anyways, if only to ruin Malfoy's nappa leather shoes.

"What are you doing?" he demanded when he trusted himself enough to open his mouth. He was being launched into the spare bathroom at the bottom of the steps. Alphard wrinkled his nose as he already recognized the acrid smell. Clearly someone else had been sick in here last night as well.

"You need to get that poison out of your system before you're going to be lucid enough for this conversation," Abraxas said, nudging the boy further into the lavatory, covering his own nose with his robe sleeve so he only smelled cologne, "You have a hard enough time keeping up with me normally."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Alphard suggested, leaning over the toilet. Recognizing the truth in Abraxas's words it was clear he did need to expel the rest of the liquor from his system as he refused the miss class the first day. They sent letters home for that, and if there was one thing Alphard was afraid of it was his fellow Blacks.

"Should I hold your pretty hair back," Malfoy drawled, still standing in the entrance looking bored.

"You should talk. Your hair-"

Alphard was cut off by the reappearance of his dinner. Abraxas' nose turned up yet, he stayed in the doorway until his housemate was done. When he had finished, Alphard leaned his head under the water facet to take a drink, swishing it around in his mouth. Once he had spat the water into the sink and was feeling marginally better, he looked back up at Abraxas.

"What was this captivating conversation you were so intent on having?" he asked, pushing past him to go back to the common room. Even with his brash nature, he didn't want to go up to their dormitory and risk waking (and therefore provoking) Tom.

"Hm?" he demanded when Abraxas said nothing, "Are we getting right to the point then where I hex your jugular open? You're not going to plead for your life?"

"You are truly hilarious," Abraxas said, sounding farther from amused as he ever had, "Have you ever considered that things might be more convoluted than your caveman understanding of things?"

"Please Malfoy, do try to justify yourself."

"Merissa is playing in some incredibly dangerous water. You know what I'm talking about, except you can't appreciate how serious it is by a fraction," Abraxas' jaw hardened for a moment before he continued, "She can hate me if she wants, and I hope she does. It would make it easier to keep her away from him. I'm sure you've noticed her affinity for deadly things."

"Such as you I'm sure," Alphard agreed harshly as he discreetly felt through his pockets for his wand. He could have sworn it was there just a few hours ago. In fact, he could feel the slight indent it had left on his leg as he had slept. But where was the bloody thing?

"Do you really think I would have woken you up in the volatile state you are in without ensuring my safety first?" Abraxas asked arrogantly as he watched the boy pat his pockets in vain.

"You sure do act more like your master every day, Malfoy," Alphard sneered back, straightening up, "Though you must realize I will eventually get it back, and when you do I will hex you to oblivion."

"I could always snap it," the blond pointed out, eyebrows arching, "However I hope that does not become necessary. We are on the same team."

"Like hell we are! You expect me to believe you have her best interest in mind?" Alphard snapped, "It's not like I need a wand anyways!" and he suddenly started stalking towards him.

" _Protego_."

Abraxas conjured a formidable barrier between the two of them with a flick of his wand. He had been expecting this to be necessary at some point. It was Alphard after all.

Alphard struggled against the silvery wall, bracing his shoulder against it. He tried to focus his energy into his hands next, as Merissa had often tried to teach him. His brow furrowed, he imagined forming a ball of light in his palms. Unfortunately, this was a talent held by few. The shield stayed intact, rippling only with the pulses of energy Abraxas was feeding into it.

"Listen here, Black. I'm going to say this once and I'll try to say it in small words so that you might understand," Abraxas ignored when Alphard let out an audible growl at this, "Merissa is going to end up dead if we don't keep her away from him. Think of Travers' older brother!"

He didn't need to explain who he meant. Alphard glared at him, yet he was considering his words. His first instinct was to just punch him on the spot, however the memory of how Riddle had looked at Merissa the previous night stopped him. And everyone knew about Roger Travers.

There was no doubt Tom would crush her like a fly if she ever became a big enough of a nuisance.

"What exactly are you proposing?" he asked, flopping down onto an armchair, abandoning his efforts to break Abraxas's shield charm.

"We both need to do our part with Merissa," Abraxas said gravely, "She needs an eye, or four if we can manage, on her."

Alphard's lips twitched, "You make a compelling hook. Usually I want to take a nap when you speak, but I'm certainly interested now."

"I am sure you are," Abraxas hissed, advancing slightly, "As eyeing her seems to be the only thing you are good at lately. You think because she's all pretty and new again that she's better. But she's not, and you're selfish to allow her to pretend so. Especially now."

"Have you ever considered that treating her like a normal girl might help her feel more like one?" Alphard flashed, "I want her better like everyone does. But she deserves to have fun once and while. You know how thing are when she's not here."

"Of course, I do!" Abraxas retorted, voice rising as he became more impassioned, "All of us feel it. Hogwarts isn't just her and your escape. I can't afford someone else in her life being unstable. You need to be realistic in what she can and cannot do. That is the point of this conversation! I want you and I to -"

"I think she can do a hell of a lot more than you'd ever give her credit for," Alphard said, ignoring Abraxas' attempt to retake the discussion. His voice was lower than Abraxas had ever heard, yet every word was still plainly heard, "I'd never consider being allies with someone so blind."

They stared at each other for a beat before they both turned, Alphard to the dormitory and Abraxas to the dungeons. Neither found peace in their sanctuaries.

Alphard crept up the stairs, concerned his argument with Malfoy may had already been too loud. He cracked the door open but saw no one out of bed yet. The only thing out of place Abraxas's covers which were far from their usual straight corners and pressed edges. All his bedding lay strewn about: a clear sign of the distressed night he must have had.

Alphard tiptoed to his trunk, cautiously unlatching it. He could hear deep breathing from all around the room, which encouraged him. His robes were difficult to find in the jumble of his belongings. Growing up with a house elf had given him no reason to learn to clean up after himself. Consequently, he was always the messiest in his dormitory, his suitcase being no exception. He had upheaved it last night looking for a quill to write the three broomsticks about firewhiskey for. Ultimately, he had just nicked one from Abraxas' desk, and now he had little motivation to put it back. Once he managed to extract a fresh set of robes from the mess, he began creeping towards the bathroom.

"Black," a cool voice called, making Alphard jump slightly before turning.

Tom was staring at him critically, having pulled back his drawings. He was already showered and dressed despite the early hour. Alphard wondered if he had purposefully waited to make himself known until the moment when it would most unsettle him. If so, he had chosen wisely.

"Riddle," Alphard acknowledged, managing to hold the discomfort from his voice, "Didn't mean to disturb you. Just getting my robes and going to shower."

"Impressive."

Alphard didn't know what to make of this comment so after the silence became uncomfortable, he turned back to the bathroom. Once inside, he stripped and started a hot shower, hoping it would wash off the lingering smell of alcohol from his skin.

/_\

Meanwhile, stories and stories above, Merissa awoke, feeling dreadful. Her stomach felt unsettled and her throat was raw, but what had woken her was the throbbing of her head. She blindly felt for the pitcher of water on her bedside table and poured herself a few glasses before she even considered opening her bed's drawings. Once she had quenches his thirst and was feeling marginally better, she pushed back the curtains and peered out to find four dozen white roses arranged in delicate vases around her bed. She knew who they were from at once but she still snatched up the heavy note from her desk, just to be sure he had enough gall to be sending her flowers. He did, of course. It read in his perfect calligraphy, " _A dozen roses for each year I've called you mine and endless regret for how much I love you"_. She rolled her eyes as she tossed the note away managing to make it into her wastebin. Abraxas was too much sometimes. It was still early, so she suspected he had not slept if flowers were already here. That or he gave the florist an extravagant tip, which seemed likely either way.

She was the first one in her room up and hastily got ready, careful to conceal the mark on her cheek with various forms of makeup and a few spells before her fellow Ravenclaws awoke. She examined it from various angles of the mirror when she was done before deciding she couldn't tell if she had banished the wound entirely with just the muted light that streamed through the cracks in the curtains. She could have pulled them back, as it was still late summer, and the light would be bright, however she knew that might rouse her fellow housemates. It was safer to wait.

Her head began throbbing again threatening a headache, so she knelt down beside her trunk and unlatched it. On top, folded properly were all of her robes and proper clothing that her house-elf had carefully packed under Rosalynn Thorpe's supervision. What her mother didn't know what that Merissa had already stuffed all of her extra potion ingredients, books and finished elixirs beneath a layer of additional robes. She had learned how to charm it so it did not look so full, even when it was open. Merissa had watched amused as her mother had fretted over how her trunk could possibly be full with only a ten pairs of robes. Rosalynn had assured her that a package would arrive within the week with the rest of her shoes, not that Merissa worried too much about this.

She extracted a flask full of a creation of her own, made mostly of crushed moonstone and willow bark. It was the only thing that fixed her migraines, though it did nothing for Abby or Susan, to their great disappointment.

She took a long sip, grimacing at the sandy texture before re-corking it and pushing it back under her robes. Before she had finished dressing however, almost all the discomfort from her head was gone. The last step in her morning routine was to adorn a elegant ring set with a cushion shaped blue green gem that she had received from Joseph a few years ago, before they were estranged.

She was ready now, with almost an hour before breakfast would be served. It occurred to her she might enjoy a walk while the weather was still lovely, however that ran the risk of seeing Abraxas. It wouldn't be too out of character for him to be waiting outside the common room this very moment.

She resolved to settle back into bed with her journal. It was a pretty little book made of rich parchment and bound in Antipodean Opaleye dragon skin. The scales glowed dimly from slivers of sunlight, which had moved and were now bouncing off the girls' mirrors, creating a lattice of soft light. This particular journal was nearly out of pages, making her cram her already tiny writing in the corners in interest of saving pages. A few lines in and the side of her hand was blackened with ink. She sighed and tried to rub it off with her weaker right hand, succeeding only in darkening both of her palms. She supposed she really should have known better by now, but she was always optimistic that the ink would dry faster.

She stood up and headed to their bathroom. Scrubbing her hands under the shining eagle facet, she looked up and realized she should have showered as her hair was hanging limp. She fluffed it up with her still wet hands to little avail. She gave the misbehaving strands a nasty look as she headed back into her dormitory, submitting to the fact she would just have to braid it and hope no one noticed. At best, perhaps it would keep Abraxas at bay, as he was snobbish when she wasn't as immaculate as him.

Abby was the first to stir, shoving her drapes back and poking a chaotic mound of red hair outside. Her eyes blinked sleepily as she adjusted to the glow of the room. She spied the profusion of flowers quickly, probably because the white petals were the brightest thing in the room.

"He is so romantic," she smiled groggily as she tried to stand up. She rubbed her forehead as she did so, grimacing, "Ugh, we had far too much last night."

"Yes, you did," Merissa said softly, turning back to the mirror where she was pulling back her hair into a plait. She was developing a mild headache as well, even through the effects of her potion, but she knew it would be improper to admit this.

"Yes, you're always so pristine Re," snorted Susan, dropping down from her bed heavily.

Susan commonly took cracks at Merissa's demeanor, so it was generally easy enough to laugh along. Today it slightly stung, her ego already being injured by her inability to assert herself last night. She hid her face by bending down to retrieve Abraxas' discarded scarf from the floor. She wrapped it around one of the vases before turning back.

"It's far too early for your verbal jousting," groaned Mary from inside her bed, also waking up.

As her three friends began to get ready sluggishly, Merissa slipped out of the room, deciding she couldn't wait for breakfast. Besides, if she stayed too long, one of them might pierce through their foggy memories of the previous evening and recall her peculiarity. She found James downstairs, engrossed in his novel as usual. He followed her out the common room without a word. They walked in silence down to the Great Hall. Normally, her and James were fond of quiet around each other, however today the stillness felt uncomfortable.

She could tell he was watching her as she artfully buttered her toast. She made a point to thoroughly cover the bread with butter and apple preserves, as if this might prove to him that she was fine. He said nothing until she had finished three pieces.

"Do you want me to take care of that?" he asked quietly, indicating her cheek, "You did a fine job covering the color, but there's still a bump."

She put her toast down before she dared meet his eyes. While she could not fathom how he would have already heard about what happened she knew she would be a fool to doubt him knowing almost anything. For example, he knew she was used to Abraxas dealing with the marks she would get from her adventures and her still having one in the morning meant something significant.

"Yes, please."

He murmured something and gently prodded her face with his wand. She felt a slight prickling, but after a moment the lump had vanished.

"Thank you," she said, her voice lower than a whisper. She knew he would hear her.

She began eating ones of the pieces of toast which she had so masterfully prepared, finding it to be unpleasantly cold now. She resorted to pulling the others apart and making small structures on her plate with the crusts rather than consuming them. She was reprimanded fiercely for this behavior at home, so she was sure to practice regularly. After a while, Professor Merrythought came with their time tables, just as her three other companions arrived.

"Double potions with the Slytherins, again," James's noted, eyes running down the paper.

Abby groaned dramatically leaning over his shoulder to see as she had not received her table yet, "You would think after generations of the same schedule someone would be progressive - or merciful enough - to end this misery."

"I can't stand Slughorn around them," Mary agreed passionately, "Riddle this and Riddle that. Riddle me this, who cares?"

"I think Re cares," said Susan mildly, "He's the only one who gives her any competition."

Merissa gave Susan a dark look over the piece of over-done toast she was buttering for herself. Susan at the very least seemed to have remembered parts of last night. Abby and Mary had no reaction to her comment however, so she was safe on those fronts for now.

"Yes well," said Mary looking disapprovingly at her friend, as if it was somehow her fault, "We can't all be perfect prefects."

Merissa didn't dignify her remark with a response, continuing to nibble a piece of toast that she had prepared moments ago, also scanning over Jame's outstretched schedule. They wouldn't have as many classes together this year, she had a feeling, as he had chosen Divination and Muggle Studies as his extra classes while the two had been on the very bottom of her list.

Merrythought came with her schedule a moment later, confirming this.

"Congratulations on becoming a prefect, Thorpe," her head of house told her, handing her the slip of paper containing her classes.

"Thank you professor," Merissa replied politely. While she had nothing against Merrythought, she had a strong sense the professor had not advocated too strongly on her behalf. Although she had a stellar reputation with the Hogwart's staff, Merissa had always been rather dreadful (at least when compared with her performance in other classes) at Merrythought's subject, Defense Against the Dark Arts. In fact, Merissa was quite sure the decision had largely been pushed by Professor Slughorn, the potions master, who adored her as if she was his first born child.

Once Merrythought had moved on, Merissa's eyes went down to the slip she had been handed. She was taking everything she cared for, and her days would be quite hectic this year. She had Herbology with Hufflepuffs first thing on Monday mornings, followed by Transfiguration and double potions after lunch. Tomorrow, she would have Arithmancy in the morning with the Slytherins as well, which she was sure would be her nap period. As she read over it a second time, the small piece of paper was nearly blown out of her hands by the wings of hundreds of owls as the morning post came in.

"I'm just worried Slughorn might try to keep us late," Susan said, tucking her schedule into her bag to begin filling her plate with breakfast, "The team is going to be practicing furiously this month. Our first match is against Slytherin, and we really need to be on our game if we want to beat them."

"Especially with Abraxas as seeker this year," James noted, slowly perusing his copy of the Daily Prophet which had just been dropped in front of him. No one else in their quartet had received anything in the post this morning.

"Yes," Susan agreed seriously, casting Merissa a sidelong glance, "Especially with Malfoy."

Susan was baiting her to say something about what happened with him the previous night. Neither one of them were the type to outright ask about something so delicate, for fear the other would not want to discuss it. This was certainly the case today.

Hoping to convey this with as few words as possible, Merissa simply gave Susan a big smile and chirped, "He is the best."

Edward Thomas scoffed from across the table, "He's decent. I've been working on new moves all summer though. You ladies should come to some of our practices and see for yourself," he leaned towards them, making Abby blush furiously.

Thomas was the seeker for the Ravenclaw team and being made captain this year on top of prefect had inflated his head slightly. He was rather dreadful, though people went to their games religiously anyways, as the rest of the team played reasonably well.

"I come to every practice already," Susan said testily into her eggs. Susan was the only girl on the quidditch team, though she was an exceptional chaser. She had been outraged about Thomas being chosen over her when she heard the news over the summer, as she was far more talented. She had speculated it was because Merrythought doubted her ability to wrangle six rowdy boys. Merissa and Abby had to assure her for days after this of her leadership abilities.

"I would hope so, Nigellus," Thomas laughed, her mood completely lost to him.

Olive Hornby made a loud screeching noise as she greeted her best friend, Marianna Goyle, causing Merissa to glare up at the Slytherin table. Abraxas immediately caught her eye, looking earnestly to get her attention. When he saw she had finally noticed, he beckoned her frantically. She sighed and stood up.

"I'm going now," she announced.

Abby looked between her friend and the blond boy, "Something up with you two? He looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel. In fact, didn't something happen with him last night. . . yeah Susan do you -"

"You can't avoid him forever, Re," James murmured without taking his eyes off his paper as Mary began hissing animatedly what she recalled, both her and Abby starting to throw Merissa glances. Susan stayed silent, ignoring their attempts to drag her into the conversation. Merissa's motivation to leave was stronger than ever as she snatched up her bag.

"That is not what I'm doing," Merissa defended, raising her eyebrows at him as she stood up, "I thought you knew everything, Patil."

He watched as she sauntered over to the neighboring table and took the empty spot on Abraxas' left, planting a kiss on his cheek, "The roses were lovely," she informed him loudly, throwing James and Susan an inconspicuous wink as she did so.

Abraxas looked relieved at the return of her normal composure. She was known for bouts of anger, but he had been concerned she would take longer to come around this time. Alphard looked up her in disbelief from over a bowl of porridge which he was lethargically picking at.

"Of course, my little dove," Abraxas said brightly. She gave him thin smile at this, which he eagerly returned. Perhaps she would make this easy for him.

His smile slipped slightly when he felt a warmth from her hand where she had placed it lightly on his bare forearm. At first, he thought it was from her nervousness, making her warmer than usual. But the temperature rose . . . and rose. When he tried to move it, she place her other hand under it, trapping his skin between them so if he even quivered he would be touching her hands, which were now scorching hot with magical energy. This was one of her oldest tricks, but its effectiveness never ceased. He lowered the appendage slowly, allowing her to move with him. She obliged, moving her left hand away once his arm was hidden under the table and trapped against his leg. Once the arm was pinned down she began tracing her nails down his skin, making him wince.

"We have double potions together, be my partner?" she asked, stealing a grape from a bunch and popping it into her mouth with her free hand nonchalantly. Abraxas was very pale as he stared at her.

"Don't stop breakfast on my account," she laughed eyes boring into his, "Eat."

Abraxas paled further, reminding her of an albino with his light hair and eyes, but he obediently returned to his breakfast. Andrew Nott cleared his throat, making her glance up with mild interest.

"Actually, Slughorn told me he was assigning partners based on skill this year," Nott told her.

She chewed the grape thoughtfully. Slughorn was very partial to both her and Malfoy, especially as a couple, "So Abraxas and I will probably be put together regardless, even if one of us gets a Troll."

Alphard snorted into his porridge, earning a dark look from Malfoy. It was unclear if he was ignoring Abraxas' situation or if he simply did not notice it.

"I think we all know he'll put you together no matter what," Alphard grimaced slightly but went on, "He _adores_ the two of you. It's disgusting."

"Thank you for the enlightenment," Merissa said pointedly as Mulciber and Travers sniggered at her expense, "I should go to class now though."

"Shall I walk you?" Abraxas asked, putting his napkin onto his plate quickly. To him, it was still unclear what she wanted. He generally made sure she got to her classes safely, so it was a fair assumption.

It would have been a touching gesture from anyone else, except she had a feeling that today it was more to guarantee she didn't do anything else brash. Nonetheless, she was impressed with the offer to spend more time with her when she had just made such a clear threat.

She considered him for a moment before shaking her head and brushing him off.

"I'm sure I will make it okay."

Normally he would have given her a look for this, but he seemed content that she had not singed his skin off - or disturbed Riddle at all for that matter. Pretending to kiss his cheek again she hissed into his ear, "Never again."

His head jerked in affirmation, such a small motion that most would have missed it. Alphard however, was watching them like a hawk from a few seats down and missed nothing.

Merissa swung her book bag around her shoulder as she headed into the foggy morning, donning a pair of gloves as she went. She figured she might as well conserve the warmth of her still burning hands. She was quite skilled at getting the energy going, however she was still weak at ceasing its flow afterwards.

She heard heavy footfalls come up behind her and turned, expecting to find Malfoy. When brown eyes pleasantly surprised her instead of grey she looped her arm around his, "Good morning Black."

"Morning Miss," he said, bowing his head, "Have you seen Merissa Thorpe anywhere? She's about ye tall," he touched the top of her head, "Rather pasty," he pretended to examine the skin on her hand, "Probably from all the inbreeding her family has done to stay impeccably pure blood. She's also incredibly vindictive. That's really the only reason I am able to differentiate you from her."

Merissa rolled her eyes at him and patted his arm with a cream-colored glove, "There are no strange things in love and war."

Alphard could feel the heat of her palm even through the thick fabric, though he suspected she had no idea it was so noticeable. She was still learning to harness her special talents. He continued smiling as if he felt nothing.

Her eyes were unfocused as she surveyed the vaguely formed tree line through the morning air. In her mind she was far away, "They say," she said, smirking slightly though he eyes were still on the forest, "If you put frogs in a pot of cool water and then put it over a flame, that the frogs will not feel that the water has become too hot until they are boiled to death."

He frowned at the green house, which was slowly taking form in the mist as they walked towards it. Their conversation would be cut short soon he realized.

"That is disgusting," he told her seriously, "Who told you that?"

She finally turned her eyes back to him, smiling with genuine humor. He was distracted by it, as her true smile was so rare. She looked warmer and pinker - though it might have been due to the crisp breeze, which was starting to blow. It promised a swift end of the warmer weather.

"You did, obviously," she teased.

"That sounds about right," he agreed, speaking to his feet as they trudged through the dewy grass, "I don't know who else you'd hear something so distasteful from."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she chided, still smiling as she walked alongside him, "You're the best Slytherin I know."

He wished he could bask in her praise for a moment, but as the desire rose, so did the shape of the greenhouse as they drew nearer. He had less than a minute now.

"Shouldn't Malfoy be your favorite?" he said, cocking his eyebrows at her, "Or did he perhaps offended you deeper than a few dozen roses could fix?"

She gave him a nasty look. He had apparently extracted information from someone this morning, before speaking to her. Admittedly, Abraxas was a large constant of her childhood, pleasant or not. It had been horrible to be betrayed by her lifelong protector, especially given her precarious state. Additionally, knowing that her parents would have no sympathy for her situation and would not allow her to break their betrothment sat like an unpleasant taste in her mouth. Yet, she was far too prideful to admit any of this.

"No."

"How _stoic_ of you," he said, without buying a word (or just one as that was all she had said).

"We're at the green house already, darn!" she said, enthusiastically bonding the last few feet to the structure, making Alphard's eyes go skyward as if in silent prayer for her, "I'll see you in potions Al."

He didn't say anything but watched her go, ensuring she got into the greenhouse without any trouble. There wasn't anything else he could do by himself, he decided. She would deny any outside help if it compromised anyone other than herself. As much as she liked to pretend that she was a cool and self-preserving as any of Abraxas' friends, Alphard knew her better. Which was exactly why he was going to accept Malfoy's offer.

/_\

Other than Susan saving Mary from a particularly aggressive venomous tentacula plant, the rest of the day went on without much commotion. Although Merissa had left the table this morning before she was sure how much her friends remembered of the previous night, they had been side eyeing her throughout the day. It was only after she was sure to laugh openly for the fifth time at one of Thomas's lame jokes that they relented, deciding she was fine.

During lunch, Merissa even felt in high enough spirits to help Susan discreetly hex Olive Hornby's goblet to do somersaults when she touched it, spraying her with pumpkin juice. Seeing the blonde girl stomp down the hall towards her dormitory, Abraxas looked accusingly over to the Ravenclaw table. Besides Abby's giggling, no one revealed no signs of guilt, so he turned back to Riddle somewhat reluctantly.

When the Ravenclaws headed into the dungeons, their disposition began to fall with the altitude. While they were usually the favored house in classes, in potions Professor Slughorn was all together enamored by the Slytherins. Their lofty connections seemed to overpower his interest in the many talented (by not regonized) students in Ravenclaw. Merissa was an exception, though she was suspicious it had more to do with her connection to Abraxas, who was Slughorns favorite only after Riddle than anything to do with her talents. Arriving, the Ravenclaws found that the majority of the Slytherins had already reached the dungeon corridor and were congregating around Tom, though he was not saying anything as usual. This made Merissa bubble with frustration. Why did they always treat him like a king if he never even paid them any mind?

Before she could fume about this too much, the door opened and a jolly looking Professor Slughorn bounded out, "Hello class! Come in, come in. Big day today."

They began to trickle in, before Slughorn stopped Riddle at the door, "Hello Tom m'boy! Good summer? I've been looking so forward to seeing how you'll thrive this year with the challenge of OWLS."

"Thank you," Tom smiled pleasantly, "I hope I can live up to your expectations, sir."

 _I hope not_ , thought Merissa bitterly as Slughorn clapped him on the back. Her and Abraxas took a desk near the front, though he sat on the edge of his chair, looking rather ill until Slughorn came to greet them enthusiastically in turn.

"How is your father, Miss Thorpe?" the professor asked, "He was always such a bright man, even when we were in school together. I assume he is still head of his department?"

"He is very well, sir," she said brightly, hoping to butter him up. This was Riddle's place to shine, which made her determined to make it her own, "He is looking very seriously into running for Minister now that Florent is getting older."

Slughorn's eyes shone and she recognized that she had successfully and thoroughly impressed him with this news, "Look at that! And Abraxas, you have interest in working for the Ministry too, isn't that correct?" Abraxas nodded, "Oh my, well it seems you two are more of a smart match every day! Yes yes, great things in that future all right . . ." he trailed off looking very pleased, probably envisioning the possibilities.

Alphard coughed loudly from behind them, Merissa turned and grinned at him, accidentally catching Riddle's eye as well from his spot next to Lestrange. She immediately stopped smiling and turned back around. Slughorn was moving towards the front of the class without greeting anyone else. He usually made a point to ignore his other favorites when one shone brighter than the rest. It effectively made them jealous and willing to fight for their spot back in his graces. Raw ambition often had to be provoked.

"Today I am going to be arranging you all using a bit of a new method," Slughorn said, smiling at the curious gazes he was getting, "Nothing to worry about, just a little pop quiz to assess where you are skills wise in this class. I will then be partnering you up according to this."

He began handing them a single page of questions. Nott was the first to receive his and glared at it in disgust. He was not used to having to earn things from his own merit.

Merissa took hers eagerly and immediately started scratching her answers down with her readied egret quill. After her decision to best Riddle yesterday, she had been sure to read ahead in the text as well as interrogate a Gryffindor coming out of the class earlier during break about the quiz for good measure. She was more than prepared for this.

She felt pleasantly smug as she stood up to turn her completed paper in, knowing she was the first to finish. Riddle was still bent over his paper, hand flying across the page. He looked up incredulously at her when she walked to the front of the class, but quickly went back to his paper when he decided there was no way she was done yet, simply asking a question.

Merissa smiled as Slughorn raised his eyebrows at her, "Done so soon, Miss Thorpe? Well let's see how you did."

She watched at his eyes trailed down her papers, eyes widening the more of her messy scrawl he deciphered.

"My goodness, these are through answers!" he exclaimed as she smirked down at his rich mahogany desk, "Excellent work, Thorpe. Full marks indeed."

"Excuse me, professor," Tom said coolly, appearing on Merissa's side. He set his own paper on top of hers, "I am finished as well."

Slughorn looked even more pleased at their apparent competitiveness. It was rare for anyone challenge either of them.

"Of course, Riddle, let's see . . ."

As Slughorn scanned down his paper, Riddle drew closer, making her stiffen. Surely, he realized how unreasonably close he was now, but then, she guessed, that was probably the point. Merissa found herself praying that their professor would make a mark or correction with his quill, however Slughorn seemed to find no error in any of his responses.

"Ah yes very good!" the professor cried, making Merissa jump, "Full marks as well - Though," Slughorn wiggled a finger at him, "I'd watch out Tom. Miss Thorpe here's answers are just a tad more in depth."

Tom didn't miss a beat, "I didn't realize it was a competition, sir."

"All of life's a competition," the professor sang jovially, "Excellent job, both of you."

Merissa took this as a cue to take her seat and Riddle was not far behind her. Personally, she wasn't a fan of Slughorn's methods, though today she was grateful for them, as they had named her the clear victor. Alphard finished next, and then Olive Hornby, who gave Merissa a poisonous glare, probably guessing enough about the origin or her acrobatic pumpkin juice. Thomas was not long after, and then Abraxas.

"Very good!" said Slughorn, as the last paper was turned in by Andrew Nott, "Let's see. . ."

The classroom shifted as everyone made eye contact with the one they wished to work with. Abby and Susan looked like they might riot if they were separated. Abraxas on the other hand was watching Slughorn calculate with a tight jaw. Merissa wondered if he was willing for them to be partnered separately, though it seemed that nothing short of a miracle would result in Slughorn splitting them apart.

"Well there no going against the numbers, sorry Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn sighed, giving the blond a deeply apologetic gaze. Abraxas looked up at him, puzzled before he continued, "Miss Thorpe, Mr. Riddle, you'll be working together."

Merissa's eyes widened at her professor and glanced at Riddle. If he was surprised, he hid it well, simply moved to a vacant desk in the very front. Merissa looked at his stiff back for a moment, still confused as Slughorn paired off the rest of the class.

"Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Black. Miss Nigellus and Miss Hornby. Rosier and Thomas - no no the other Rosier. . . Bach and Avery. Patil you'll be with _Druella_ Rosier."

Merissa gave Abraxas a desperate look, but he just put his hands up in defeat and whispered, "Be good."

Merissa watched as he moved to the desk with Alphard, neither looking too pleased. She sighed and picked up her bag, moving to sit rigidly down next to Riddle. The rest of the class shuffled around, and once everyone was settled Slughorn clapped his hands together, "Excellent, excellent! Today we will be making a Boiling Draught, only to understand its properties, I hope you will all note. Then, next class we will explore several possible antidotes. Madame Charron has had far too many accidents happen when students try to hex boils off themselves. . . really, regrowing noses is no fun business."

Merissa laughed softly into her textbook as she flipped to the correct page. Hornby had gone into the hospital wing last year, missing her nose, but it was due to a hex from Merissa herself and not a mistake fixing pimples. Olive's excuse had been priceless, as everyone seemed to believe she would do such a thing. Not to mention, apparently the girl could never really differentiate her perfumes the same since. She smelled rather like an escort these days, not that anyone cared to mention it to her.

"I am going to get the ingredients we need," Riddle informed her, breaking her thoughts. She simply nodded without looking up from the instructions. She had tweaked them slightly, notes scribbled in the margins. It was a simple potion to begin with, but with her improvements, they could be done in half the time. She took out her potions kit and began mincing her dandelion roots.

"It says to slice, not mince."

Riddle's voice surprised her, as she had not heard him return, but she did not look up from her work, "Well mine says mince," she said, stabbing a finger from her right hand at the page, her left being occupied with the knife.

She had no intention of letting him brew much of anything in this class. She had single-handedly lead herself and Abraxas to perfect scores all last year, and she planned to continue this regardless of Riddle's competence. Besides, being back in her element of brewing made her especially confident.

"You wrote that," he said, and she was finally curious enough to look up and see his expression. He looked amused.

"It makes them cook faster," she insisted, "It doesn't damage the integrity of the ingredients, it's just that mincing takes more time, so the author assumes it's the longer way. He doesn't consider how it makes the cooking time significantly shorter and is overall more efficient."

"You think you're cleverer than whoever wrote this?" he asked, politely incredulous, picking up his book to read the name on the binding "Peterson?"

"Do you even know who that is?" she asked tartly, reaching around him to put the minced roots to the cauldron.

"No," he admitted, "You do?"

"Of course not," she scoffed, reaching under his arm to get the snake bile. He moved back to avoid hindering her, "That's my point. Neither of us have ever heard of him. But we've both heard of me."

She gave him a winning smile and he shook his head, still amused, "Very well. If you are mistaken I will be explaining why our potion is so wrong to Slughorn."

He expected that is exactly what he would be doing, as she had just added snake grass, which the recipe did not call for. Not that he bothered to mention it to her.

"I'd hope so," Merissa agreed, beginning to stir the amber liquid, "I wouldn't want him to give anyone else the credit when we finish a half hour early."

His face was unreadable as he allowed her to continue, assisting when she asked. She had to admit that he was quite adept at everything he was doing. He worked with more focus on the individual ingredients than she did, and the final products were predictable as a result.

"Here," he offered, handing her the ground cockroach. She had hoped in giving him the task he would have left some legs unpulverized. Pushing the pestle around in it, she found she could not complain about the perfect dust, so she grudgingly added a pinch, stirring with her other hand.

"Done", she announced, after a few more stirs. The potion turned the correct olive color, the steam rising directly vertical, just as the text described. It had come out even better than expected, and a small reason for this was his perfect preparation, she reluctantly admitted to herself.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. The potion seemed flawless, despite her variations - not to mention that they were finished in half the time, just as she had predicted. He was slightly disappointed.

Professor Slughorn, however was beside himself, "Why I never! Never have I seen such a splendid potion brewed in my class! Merlin's beard, if I had known this system would work this well I would have employed it years ago," (at this Abraxas gave him a wuthering look, as Alphard and he had nearly come to blows working together, but the professor was too elated to notice), "Yes yes, excellent work, twenty points each to Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Quite impressive you two. Who thought to add the bile so early? Wonderful idea."

"Me, sir," Merissa said, smirking at her classmate's astounded expression, "I thought it would combine better with the addition of the cockroach. Riddle was quite a help though, really couldn't have done it without his . . . assistance."

"Purely instinctual skill around a cauldron, as always," Slughorn beamed, missing her dig at Tom entirely.

Merissa was still rather pleased with herself as she began packing up her stuff. If Riddle was feeling irked, he wasn't showing it, as he too began to put away his kit. He left as soon as he was packed up, robes swishing at his ankles as she pushed through the door and went around the corner. She decided to exit so soon after him would be unwise, so she elected to lean against Abraxas' desk instead, watching as he and Alphard attempted to salvage their potion.

"Your porcupine quills are burning," she informed him, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

Abraxas quickly removed the cauldron from the flame, waving his hand frantically to get rid of the acrid smoke. Alphard looked up from skinning his rat tail, unmoved by his partner's trouble. Their refusal to work together was undoubtedly the reasons for such disaster, as they both were quite bright.

"I am having a very hard time working with someone of such lesser skill than you," Abraxas said snidely to Merissa, though his lip was curling at his partner.

"It's not my fault you've leaned on Re all these years," snapped Alphard, peering into the darkened mess that was their potion, "C'mon potions princess, will you take pity on us?"

Merissa glanced over at Slughorn, who was preoccupied putting out a small fire started by Avery, "Okay. Add some ice plant petals to cool it down from that burn. Put a little more snake bile in than it calls for and be really careful simmering in the last step."

"Thanks," said Alphard fervently, while Malfoy nodded, "Catch you after class?"

"If you're going to be in the library you will," she laughed, "I already have too much homework."

Alphard frowned as she pecked Abraxas goodbye and headed out of the dungeons. Spirits high, she allowed a pair of fourth year Gryffindors who were snogging in a corner slip away without detention when they crossed paths. She had just about made it to the library, when she was yanked into a nearby classroom.

"What are you -" she was cut off by her own surprise when she saw who had abducted her.

Her potions partner was glaring down at her, one arm past her, pushing the door closed and preventing her from leaving. She glanced up at his hand, pressed firmly against the dark wood, and a large ornate ring on his hand glinted back at her. She stared at it, mesmerized for a moment before his voice pulled her eyes back to his face.

"What are you playing at," he demanded. His voice was impassive, which only added to her anxiety. If he was calm, it was because he was in control.

"What do you mean?" she replied, trying to side-step away. He stopped her by putting his other arm up, trapping her. In any other situation, being in this position might have been intimate. Instead, it made her feel slightly ill.

"Are you trying to prove something?" he asked, "I am Slughorn's favorite. You're not even second, despite your association with Malfoy."

She glared up at him, "I don't need to prove anything to you. You try twice as hard as me and only do fractionally better. Now let me go."

Both of his arms stayed steady as he loomed over her, unwilling to let her leave until he had made his point. She wasn't taking him seriously yet, he could tell. And that just wasn't acceptable.

"Not until we're clear: continuing this would have serious repercussions on yourself and Abraxas," he still hadn't looked away from her.

"Whatever, Riddle," she said, pushing one of his arms down. He pulled away from her touch.

"Are we clear?" he asked, keeping the other arm firm on the door.

"Are you really so insecure that you need to scare me into not doing better than you?" she snapped, pushing against his other arm. He didn't pull back this time but just looked down at her, his expression darkening.

"I warned you," she hissed, putting a hand to his other arm. He pulled back completely this time, cursing as she made a small shock from her fingers. It marked his skin with two puckered burns where they had landed on his arm. They were small and not awfully painful, but she had no needed to use her wand and that had been enough. He stared at her, mouth open in a very un-Riddlesque way as she pushed past him and slammed the door after herself.

He slowly moved from the room and down the hall, reaching the stairs down into the dungeons. The marks on his arm were starting to throb lightly, however he refused to stop and heal them. That would be admitting she had won, that she had taken him off guard and that she somehow was able to do magic that even he, Tom Riddle had never achieved. He found Lestrange and Mulciber lounging in the common room. He sat down in one of the stiff-backed leather armchairs, causing both to look up nervously. He flicked his sleeve back irritably with the tip of his wand and silently vanished the imperfections on his otherwise flawless light skin.

He looked up sharply at the two boys, who were still watching him with bemusement. They cringed away and turned their eyes elsewhere when he met their gazes. Feeling more in control already, he leaned back into the chair and allowed his muscles to relax. This was his kingdom, after all.

"I want to know everything about that Thorpe girl," he stated stonily.


	4. Dueling Lessons

September 27th, 1942

The first storm of the year came, seeming to mirror the mood of everyone at Hogwarts. Homework loads had grown continuously as the professors insisted OWLS were going to be incredibly challenging. Merissa had spent nearly all her time in the library since her confrontation with Riddle, determined to steal his spot at the top of their class despite his threats. Apparently, he had not acted on them though, as Abraxas seemed to know nothing about their squabble. Every potions class her and Tom would work politely with each other, continuing to dazzle Slughorn. They never exchanged a word more than they needed to either.

Her friends seemed generally pleased with the way she was acting, especially given her rocky start to the year. She was excelling in all her classes beyond her usual high level even, and the knowledge that Riddle was certainly hearing about it via Abraxas was enough to motivate her. Abraxas himself was the biggest fan of her sudden interest in academics, often joining her in the library for silent study sessions. He would tell anyone who would listen about how many hours they spent together, studying in silence. He had even written his own mother about it Merissa found out, when she received a glowing letter from Mrs. Malfoy. What he wouldn't mention was how she would glare at him any time he tried to make conversation. Seemily unbothered by this, he stayed on his side of the table and she on hers, so they were both pacified, even if he still was not permitted to touch her. The only person who was completely vexed by her change in behavior was Alphard.

After becoming accustomed of her willingness to do most anything in prior years, her now constant sedentary lifestyle disturbed him. He would go with her some days, taking Abraxas' place, though he did not study any books himself. He would often bring a small rock and practice transfiguring it into various forms. While he did this, he would watch Merissa as if he expected her to suddenly catch fire, though she pretended not to notice. Occasionally, he would physically lead her to the Great Hall, so he could make sure she ate and above all, was always sure to remind her how dull she was being every hour or so.

"Honestly Merissa, if I wanted to be bored to death I'd hang around Malfoy," he sighed exasperatedly at her, one particularly quiet day at the library.

She had been repeating 'mhm' to everything he had said in the last half hour, focused on perfecting her History of Magic essay for Binns. The professor always appreciated first hand source material, so she had been sure to check out some more obscure books from the archives. Currently, the table she was working was occupied by her parchment and a large stack of fading journals of wizards who had lived during the time of the establishment of wizard colonies in the Arctic. She thought it wouldn't be so bad living in an igloo when you had impenetrable charms and could conjure flames. And it would be so still and peaceful there. . .

"Merissa?" he asked when she only hummed again, her eyes not leaving the page, "Merlin, I might as well talk to the shelves."

He was situated on the table she was trying to use, his legs hanging down, hand now covering her book and obscuring the passage on the discovery of ice foxes near the North Pole that she was trying to read from one of the early explorer's journal.

She rolled her eyes up at him, "Go suck a snargaluff pod."

He didn't budge his hand, "No. You're supposed to be the fun Ravenclaw. Susan is always busy with quidditch and now you're acting like a cave troll, always buried in books up here."

"Cave trolls can't read," she retorted, trying to pull the book out from under his hand without success, "You would know that if you weren't always trying to peek at girls' knickers during Care of Magical Creatures. You'd also know how significant ice foxes are and why I'm interested to read more."

He scowled at her, "You're getting me confused with Mulciber."

She gave him a very blank stare until he moved his hand, "Thank you," she said fervently, picking up the book and placing it in her lap to begin reading again.

"You're so dramatic," he groaned, loud enough to earn a nasty look from Riddle, who was studying a few tables away with Lestrange, "Fine. I'll be back with my bookbag in ten. We can study together."

"You don't have to do that," Merissa said quickly, looking up in surprise. Alphard offering to spend time doing homework was serious cause for concern, "I know you've been wanting to start meetings with the dueling club back up. Along with quidditch, you have a lot on your plate."

He waved her down, "Nah. I should start on the diagram Slughorn wanted," he assured her, before adding in half feigned disgust, "I'm sure you've already finished."

"Alright," she agreed, still perplexed by the offer. She had expected he might try to forcibly remove her from the library one of these days.

Merissa waved as he went, allowing herself to look around the room for the first time in several hours. She saw that Lestrange had moved so he was facing both Tom from across the table as well as her. He seemed to be listening to Riddle, but she couldn't see if he was talking as his back was to her.

That is rather odd, Merissa mused, Lestrange didn't study. She was oblivious to Susan as she came into the library and waved, sighing when Merissa took no notice. She continued to stare at the pair of Slytherins. What were they doing here? Lestrange looked up at her just as she was thinking this. She quickly lowered her eyes back down to her reading. Despite her best efforts, she found she was picking up nothing, too aware of the hole he was boring into her head with his stare. Picking up her books, she noticed Travers a few more tables away, doing the same.

She quickened her pace, stuffing the last few notebooks inside her bag as she began walking briskly. The journals would have to find their way back to their proper shelves. Travers also stood and started to make his way out of the library after her. She swung around the corner of a bookshelf and nearly ran over a group of second years in her haste.

Despite her swift departure, she noticed as she ascended the staircase that Travers was ghosting after her. She started a light jog up the stairs, and quickly turned the corner, just to run into someone. For a moment, she was concerned it was Riddle again, before she realized the hand that helped her up was far too tan and warm.

"Woah there," he laughed, "We better both slow down, aye Thorpe?" Thomas flashed his bright teeth at her.

"Yes . . ." Merissa said vaguely, looking around for her pursuer. Travers was nowhere in sight. Could she have imagined he was following her? He had as much right as anyone to use the stairs. And Tom's threats had made her rather paranoid.

"I've been meaning to ask, you'll be at the match, right?" Edward asked brightly, brushing off her robes.

"Yes?" she said. This confused her. The weather was violent, but she never missed a game, given her boyfriend and best friend were both on different house teams.

"Great, great, just wanted to make sure!" he said, bewildering her with his teeth again, "Well, see you tonight right? For patrol," he added when she looked bemused.

"Right, see you then," she nodded, moving past him to the common room.

September 29th, 1942

Today was the day, Merissa decided as she was roused by the sound of Abby shuffling around the room. Her slippers made loud slapping noises on the floor that echoed off the stone walls and through their thick hangings. Susan had gotten Abby quieter and quite expensive moccasins for Christmas, but she refused to use them, insisting her old ones were just fine. Merissa could already hear Susan grumbling about the noise as she knotted a robe around her waist and pulled back her drawings.

"Morning Re!" Abby rang, drowning out the sound of Susan's irritable muttering. Mary gave the red headed girl a muderous look, probably for the din she was making.

"Good morning," Merissa agreed, starting to shuffle off to the bathroom, a hot shower on the forefront of her mind.

Abby exchanged a look with Susan before taking Merissa's arm into her small hands, managing to stop her with a surprising amount of force.

"Do we need to have an intervention Meri?" Abby asked seriously, "Because we've talked, and we will set up scripts and a recovery plan if we need to."

"What are you talking about?" Merissa laughed, looking between the two of them, "I'm fine."

"You seem too fine," Susan remarked, coming over and sitting on Abby's bed, which was closest, "We just want to make sure you would know you could tell us if you weren't."

Merissa was sure to keep her face smooth as she smiled at her friends, "Of course I would. Nothing's wrong though. Abraxas and I squabble, like we always do, but it's nothing to be worried about."

"Okay," Susan agreed hesitantly, "I might have to see you outside and socially functioning to believe it, but I'll take your word for it now."

"If you don't smother me first," Merissa teased, finally being allowed to continue into the washroom.

Once inside the shower, she allowed her face to pinch in guilt as it had wanted to before. She didn't like being dishonest with them. The past couple of days she had noticed all of Riddle's group seemed to be watching her, and some even following. She never stared long enough to be sure, for fear of them becoming wise to her, yet she was sure they had never been so interested in her comings and goings. It had crossed her mind that Abraxas may have said something, however when he noticed he seemed just as perplexed, though he said nothing to her about it.

As she let the scalding water rinse away the rest of the suds, she leaned her head against the warm tile of the shower wall, standing under the water for minutes longer than was necessary, just enjoying the heat. All of this finalized the fact that today had to be day. She simply couldn't put it off any longer, though she was uncomfortably aware that she was going to omit the truth from someone else for it. She sighed and finally shut off the water, grabbing a plush towel to dry off with. She found it to be pleasantly warm as well, as they were kept over a pile of hot rocks the house elves rotated from the fire while the students slept.

When she was dressed, she pulled her damp hair back into another braid as she so often did lately, not caring to be bothered by her waves. The dormitory was nearly empty when she returned, Susan waiting with her bag in hand.

"There is never time for your showers in the morning, you know that," Susan reminded her, "We'll be late to breakfast."

Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, which made Merissa's insides twist uncomfortably again. Perceptiveness was not one of Susan's strong suits, yet she still seemed to know Merissa wouldn't want to be alone today.

"You didn't have to wait for me," Merissa said, slightly abashed.

"I know."

Susan started a light conversation on Quidditch just a few beats later, which Merissa enjoyed because it allowed her to just nod occasionally all the way down to the Great Hall.

"If you really think about it, keeper is probably the highest-pressure position with the least amount of recognition," Susan was saying as they walked down the aisle separating the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, "It's kind of like being a percussionist. No one ever cares to mention the percussionist, but without them the whole ensemble falls apart."

"Who doesn't love a triangle," Merissa agreed, less than half paying attention, "I'll be right back."

Susan watched as Merissa hurried down the table and sat down next to Alphard, who looked up in surprise.

"Hey Re. . .Abraxas is down a few," he tried lamely.

"Bother," she said, waving her hand dismissively, "I wanted to talk to you. Can we walk and talk to class? I need to eat."

"Please do," Alphard encouraged, "I'll escort you to Binns?"

"Sure," she agreed easily, giving him a smile as she stood.

Abby and James were having a playful argument about wizard or muggle music when Merissa made her way back to their usual spot two thirds of the way down the table. She squeezed between the two and started hastily preparing herself toast.

"What was that about?" Susan asked, slightly irritated by her earlier desertion.

"Just needed to talk to Alphard," Merissa dismissed, "I know he was nervous about turning in his essay to Binns today. I think he wanted to tag along so he could gauge his mood today."

"I helped him with that paper all last night," Susan said, frowning into her eggs, "He told me my editing put his mind at ease."

"Oh," Merissa said, suddenly scrambling for an explaination, "I must have been mistaken."

Susan began muttering unintelligibly as she pushed away her breakfast, which she had barely touched and taking out a worn piece of parchment from her bag which contained notes on the various plays Thomas had been drilling them on. Merissa looked to Abby for help, but she just shrugged her shoulders, apparently at a loss herself as well. Susan left the table early, not even bothering to give them an excuse.

"What's her deal?" Merissa asked as they started to leave the hall for class.

"It's just not a good year for Susan," James murmured, "Too much competition. It doesn't bring forward her best qualities."

"Exactly," Abby seconded, for Merissa was looking at James in bemusement. Abby was always better at grasping the meaning in his more outlandish sentences than anyone else, "She's just feeling threatened. You should talk her up to Slughorn, you know how much an invitation would do for her self-esteem. Especially when even Edward is apparently not good enough. . ."

Merissa stopped listening at Thomas's name, though luckily Mary was quick to take her spot in the conversation. She exchanged an amused look with James before they reached the stairs where Alphard was patiently waiting for her.

"Later Patil," she called, waving over her shoulder as she went in stride with Alphard, hoping to put some distance between her and anyone who would care to eavesdrop on her.

"What's the big secret?" Alphard asked as she lead them onto a less trafficked staircase, leaning back on the banister as the steps swung around to a new floor.

"I want you to start teaching me how to duel," she said calmly, hoping he would follow her example.

His eyebrows shot up however and she realized she never really had a chance of making this a nonchalant conversation. As much disdain Alphard might have for tradition, it was still how he was raised - it was how all of them were. She knew as well as him that dueling was something she was never expected to learn.

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly about Abraxas," he said quickly, realizing how much his face had betrayed.

"It's not for Abraxas - I mean it could be," she added when he looked further scandalized, "I just don't want to be caught in that kind of . . .situation again."

"Is there reason for you to think you will be?" he asked seriously, leaning towards her just as the staircase met with the third floor.

She briskly began walking down the hall to the History of Magic classroom as she replied, "No. I just want to be prepared. And of course, I wouldn't ask anyone else but you. You're the best in our year."

"Rubbish," Alphard said, his cheeks burning, "I'm only competent. We can use Professor Merrythought's office, she always has it set up for dueling club meetings. I can tell her you're a new member."

"Do not tell anyone that," Merissa begged, already glancing around to see if anyone had heard in the congested hallway, "I'm dreadful."

"You are now," he said brightly, "I'm a surprisingly good teacher. That new second year couldn't hold his wand straight just a few weeks ago and now he's -"

"Brilliant," Merissa cut him off, giving him a strained smile, "I need to get into Binns' though. He's always so grumpy after walking all the way up here."

"Suggest he petition to change his classroom to the first floor based on his overwhelming seniority," Alphard suggested seriously, "Always gets him in a good mood."

She grinned and held back a laugh, giving him a tight hug goodbye, making his cheeks turn further scarlet. He gave her a smooth but playful wink despite this before heading off to his class, though he did so rather quickly.

Merissa was grateful he hadn't pried too much as she took her seat in the classroom next to Susan who was incredibly busy preparing her essay on her desk. Deviating too far from the truth would have inevitably come back to her. And Alphard truly was the best person to teach her, because this couldn't wait. Not when Riddle seemed to be becoming increasingly restless.

"I didn't see Alphard so much as glance in to see how Binns was," Susan commented, snatching Merissa's essay up to bring it to their professor with her own.

"I don't know what's up with him," Merissa replied, pursing her lips together as she slowly took out her calendar, not so much to write down any reminders, but to avoid looking at Susan.

"Hm," Susan snorted as she pushed back her chair to stand, nearly knocking it over. Abby glanced back nervously from her spot with James in front of them at the noise.

Once Binns' drone began however, the room became still, and Susan fell asleep as usual, so Merissa decided things couldn't be as off as James and Abby seemed to think. The rest of the day went on as normal (except for Rosier staying suspicious close to Merissa when she spent her lunch in the library) until after dinner when she headed up to meet Alphard.

"Are you going to the dueling club practice?" Abby asked chipperly when Merissa informed them she wouldn't be in the common room for a few hours.

Susan dropped the bread that she had been enthusiastically dunking into her stew, splattering herself with broth. She hardly seemed to notice as James murmured, "Scorgify" to remove it. She was too busy gawking at her friend. Merissa was infamously horrible at dueling. Fourth year, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had exploded a stray desk and her abilities had only deteriorated since.

"Who told you that?" Merissa demanded, sitting back down as if her bag suddenly was filled with bricks, "I'm not joining anything, Susan," she assured the taller girl, who was looking like she might start bending the spoon in her hand if she gripped it any tighter.

"Druella Rosier was whispering about it in Care of Magical Creatures. I told her to stop being a gossip! But you know how she is," Abby said, looking up surprised, "I didn't think it was a bad thing though. Did you want it to keep it private? I think you'd do well."

"I don't want people to know because it's not true," Merissa muttered. She just stopped herself from glancing over at the Slytherin table. She wondered if Tom was already glowering over at her for her audacity.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Abby said confidently, looking between her two dark haired friends whom were both acting incredibly peculiar.

"I'll see you guys later," Merissa sighed, "If anyone asks I'm in the library finishing my diagram for Slughorn."

"You finished that days ago," James recalled, but Merissa simply hushed him as she snagged one last roll to eat on her way down the hall to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.

Once outside the room, she bumped open the door with her hip, her hand still wrapped around the warm bread. The room was spacious and had high arched ceilings reminiscent of the Ravenclaw dormitories, which made her feel at home. A large space in the center of the room was clear, allowing for a small, yet effective dueling area. There were a few dummies propped up for target practice along the wall, and as she moved forward, one of them seemed to shift and -

"AGH!" she cried as he leapt out at her, "Black that isn't funny!"

Alphard was grinning as he lacked the indecency to outright laugh, though he clearly was tempted to. He lit the torches with a dramatic sweep of his wand, though he had to whisper the spell under his breath.

"It was," he said decidedly, ignoring her weak attempt to frown at him, "You just didn't to see your face."

"You're a complete tosser," she snapped, also pained not to laugh.

"Probably," he agreed jovially, "But I'm also exceptional at dueling. What do you want to start with?"

"I really am rubbish," Merissa sighed as she sat on a desk several hours later, watching Alphard half wedged under a cabinet that she had hit instead of the large target he had constructed for her. He was attempting to fix the leg, which she had managed to blast off.

"Rubbish," Alphard argued, though some of his validity was lost to her as his voice was muffled, his face pressed against the bottom of the dark wood, "You're just used to picking up everything immediately. You've never been taught, you just need to practice."

"Maybe we should practice somewhere outside . . . where all I can hit are trees," she said moodily.

"You'd risk hitting a cute forest animal?" he laughed, the sound echoing oddly though the hollow dresser.

"There is nothing cute in the Dark Forest," she smirked, standing up from her perch to come next to him, "Now please come up where I can take you seriously. That leg is as fixed as it's going to get, and I can see your pants."

"Lucky you," he teased, but his squirmed out from under cabinet anyways, "Realistically, we should just stay in here. I can put protective barrier around, for the furniture's sake. I'm sure they're quite intimidated by you, at least."

"I'll keep that in mind if I'm ever at odds with a wardrobe," she deadpanned, making him grin again.

"Fair enough. Every other evening then? Until you can scare a real person," he offered, moving the dummies back into their places against the wall.

"I'll see you Thursday," she nodded, heading out into the hall, already looking forward to climbing into bed.

October 1st, 1942

Avery was the one trailing her today. It had been Lestrange yesterday and Mulciber the day before. They were being smart enough to rotate, still they obviously underestimated her observational skills. She had yet mentioned her shadows to anyone, because she wanted to know why on her own first before she involved anyone else. It seemed selfish to add this burden to her friend's minds when they already had so much on their plates, especially when it could be something not worth concern. Besides, if someone let it slip to her hunters that she was onto them, they would retreat, and she might never discover their motivation.

She attempted to throw Avery off by moving through a thick mass of students, however he simply went around them, following her up a side spiral staircase. She hurried to the top, took two erratic turns, and pressed herself up against the wall, waiting for him. He walked right past her making her unsure if he did so because it would look incredibly suspicious if he didn't continue down the hall or if he simply did not see her. She let out a breath once he had passed and stood there for a moment, pulling her hands through her hair.

She looked up when someone else came around the corner, wand raised. She was relieved when she saw it was only Abraxas. He looked confused by her position against the wall but came to her.

"I've been looking for you," he said, starting to pull her against his chest with one arm.

She inhaled his decadent scent gratefully, before remembering herself and pushing back. Abraxas may had been her comfort when she was younger, but now she refused to allow herself. She huffed out his scent as if it was poison.

"I haven't been looking for you," she told him cheekily, swishing her hair back.

"I know," he said quickly, "I wouldn't either. However, I need to talk to you. I think something is happening with-"

"I know about what Riddle is doing," she snapped, "If that's what you're here about. You can go tell him yourself. I'm sure that would earn you some points."

"You know?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes," she lied brazenly.

"I don't even know," Abraxas countered, eyes narrowing, "So if you do, tell me so I can help you."

"How convenient for you that is," she said coldly, her face stony. She gave a passerby who had looked up in interest such a venomous glare that they jogged down the hall and around the corner. Abraxas allowed himself to be backed behind a statue a moment later, seeming to decide that their privacy was worth the risk of seeming indecent.

He put a hand on her shoulder and glazed down at her between crinkled eyebrows, "Look Meri-" he began softly, but she threw his hand of aggressively.

"No," she hissed, "You listen. I don't want anything to do with you. If I didn't know Joseph would write home at first chance if he saw any slip in our relationship I would publicly annex you from my life. You have never shown me any affection or given me reason not to. You know people usually snog behind this statue?"

"I would never put you in such a compromising situation. It's not proper Merissa. I am not going to snog you in some random hall where anyone could come up," he was becoming defensive now as well.

"Really," she raged, "Then why exactly wouldn't you kiss me when we were alone last month in Barcelona? Was it not private enough then? Instead we look for privacy to squabble. Because that's our real secret - we can stand being together!"

"This is not a conversation we are having right now," his expression blank while he spoke.

"Fine."

"Fine."

She didn't look back as she walked down the hall, heading in no direction in particular.

"Up a little . . .and to the left just a smidge. Perfect, you can go now."

"Stupefy," Merissa said uncertainly.

The jet of red light sputtered off course almost at once and slammed into Alphard's shining barrier around them, shaking it concerningly as it exploded into tiny red sparks that fell to the ground.

"Well," Alphard began hesitantly, "On the bright side, you almost knocked out my shield in one hit."

"So if I ever duel someone, I can just aim for the person next to them and hope it hits them instead," Merissa muttered, straightening out her arm again.

She closed one eye, trying to line up her wand with the red target in the middle of the dummies chest. The overall conclusion Alphard had made about her dueling deficiency was that it was not a problem with the potency of her magic but of her wandmanship. She personally found this to be incredibly discouraging as magic was pointless unless it could be directed. Despite her knowledge of how much she needed to learn this for her own safety, she could never control it properly.

"You have a lot of power behind your spells," Alphard encouraged, helping her steady her arm, "You just don't think you'll hit the dummy, so you don't. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"I'll just be sure to really believe in myself then," she told him sarcastically as she tried to shoot out a silent spell. It worked fine but didn't hit the target again and broke a hole in the barrier, making both spells dissolve into white mist which smelled like gunpowder.

"I think that's enough for today," Merissa muttered, tucking her wand away before she could inflict anymore destruction. The mist settled like dust around the room and on them, making them look as if they had aged several years.

"You'll be fine Re," Alphard said encouragingly, brushing off her robes, "You haven't even been practicing for half a week yet. Have Susan help you! She's got great aim."

"She's too busy with quidditch," Merissa shrugged, "Which reminds me. Abraxas told Nott to tell me, to tell you that if you skip another practice he's replacing you with Rosier."

"That's just cruel," Alphard laughed, "The mere wind from a bulger would knock him off his broom. I see you and Abraxas are as happy as ever though."

"Buoyant as rocks," Merissa hissed darkly, making Alphard raise his still slightly dusted eyebrows at her.

They were now heading out of the room and into the darkened castle. Merissa knew she had patrols with Thomas soon, however this slowed her steps rather than quickening them as it should. Patrols seemed to suck time away from her already limited store. Between classes, homework, dueling practice and her growing paranoia, she felt just as strained on time as the rest of her year.

"Merissa," Alphard said seriously, "You shouldn't be in that situation. I could always talk to your -"

She was already shaking her head, "It's not your problem to deal with. It's not anyone's right now, because it's not causing any problems."

"How can you say that?" Alphard snapped indignantly, "You're miserable!"

"I am not," Merissa said sternly, "There's a lot more to my life than Abraxas. And there are worse things than being with my oldest friend."

"I can't accept that's your decision," Alphard said, stopping, and crossing his arms.

"Well you have to, since it isn't yours," Merissa snapped back, also stopping, and turning a few steps above to look at him.

Her mouth was a hard line as she gazed down at him. After a moment of holding her gaze and seeing no leniency, he scoffed and turned to go down the stairs, leaving her to find Thomas by herself.

When Alphard reached the dungeons, he was feeling regretful already but knew she would have been patrolling by now, so he simply followed Olive Hornby towards the common room, hardly noticing as Tom passed him.

"Where are you off to Riddle?" a seventh-year girl who had been walking behind Alphard giggled.

"I have to go to my patrols," Tom told her politely as Alphard made it to the common room entrance, Hornby having already opened it. He heard the beginning of the older girls second giggle as the wall closed behind him.

He moved past a group of his housemates who were loudly spectating a game of wizard chess being played between Avery and Nott and plopped onto one the couches.

He closed his eyes, hoping he could take a small nap before these hopes being shattered within five minutes by the sound of Abraxas clearing his throat loudly, and from the sound of it, right next to his head. His eyes snapped open in irritation to find the blond boy had taken a seat in the chair right next to the end of the couch. He was looking expectantly at him, his arms and legs equally crossed.

"I got your message, and while I don't think you have the gall to put your faith in Rosier's physical capabilities, I will be sure to make it to the next practice," Alphard groaned, closing his eyes again.

"I'd hope so, since this next practice is the last one before our first match, in case you forgot," Abraxas said, somehow sounding both completely exhausted and haughty, "But I'd hardly approach you for that. Aren't you supposed to be with Merissa?" he dropped his voice, "I can only pretend to love studying with her so much. She's getting tired of me."

"It's not difficult to be tired of you, I can assure you," Alphard snapped sitting up, though he also was sure to keep their voice low enough where no one could hope to hear over the loud chess match.

"This isn't a joke Black," Abraxas hissed, "In case you haven't noticed, she's being followed now. We don't know what that means."

"Well I'm sure it's your idol's doing," Alphard scoffed, "Why don't you ask him?"

"He hasn't told me anything lately, which makes me even more suspicious," Abraxas admitted, "Where is he anyways?"

"He left for patrols less than ten minutes ago," Alphard said boredly, "Shouldn't you know his schedule?"

Abraxas reddened slightly and re-crossed his legs before answering.

"I do - I mean no, I don't know his whole schedule - but I do know that he's not on patrols. Hornby is sitting right over there. And anyways, they patrol on Fridays," Abraxas managed to stammer out, Alphard's expression becoming increasingly amused as the sentence went on.

"You're right," Alphard said, smile dropping as he too spotted Olive tossing back her blonde hair as she spoke to Lestrange, "We should go find Re, just in case."

"She'll be fine with Thomas. He's more competent than he seems," Abraxas argued, "It would be too suspicious if we got caught sneaking around together. Follow me up to the dormitory in five minutes, we can wait for him there."

"Fine," Alphard agreed, "But if Riddle isn't back to stalking around here by nine, I'm assuming he's digging up the chomping cabbages to bury her under."

"Don't say that," Abraxas insisted, "She will be fine. Just stay with her next time."

Abraxas went up the stairs, leaving Alphard to sulk for a few minutes. He had known it was stupid to let Merissa go off by herself, but he hadn't noticed Riddle also leaving, which had been stupid of him. He was letting himself get too caught up - he didn't need Abraxas to tell him that. She seemed to be acting even more cautiously than they were, which was certainly comforting. It was no mystery to him why she had asked him for dueling lessons.

When Alphard also ascended the steps he found Abraxas attempting to read in his desk. Alphard reclined on his bed, not a word exchanged between the two. He began practicing his wand movements for charms, careful not to say the spells aloud as he didn't want the ceiling to come alive. This did not last long for either of them however, and soon Abraxas was pacing and Alphard was sitting on the edge of his bed running his finger through his hair nervously.

"You don't think-" Alphard began, watching Abraxas make his third lap around the room.

"No Black," he snapped back without allowing the sentence to be completed. He didn't want to be anymore anxious than he already was.

Alphard sighed and moved from his bed to kneel beside the shallow, mirror-like pool that worked as a divider in the middle of the room. They had been told by a haughty sixth year when they themselves were first years it was to match the water theme that the lake, its own water visible through the reinforced windows, had made. Most of them, however found it to be bothersome, as someone would always forget one morning in the beginning of the year and end up with soaked shoes.

Alphard was the only one who enjoyed it, conjuring up small smooth rocks to skip across it when he was bored, which was often. First year, nothing fascinated him more than how the rocks would disappear when they hit the bottom, some charm in place to keep it the pool clean. As the years went by it became habit more than anything. He was quick to do this now, as he thought the repetitive motion might calm him.

Tom returned within the hour, to both Alphard and Abraxas' great relief. Despite their agreement that Merissa would be fine, both had been tempted to rush up to the Ravenclaw tower just in case.

"It is rather irksome when my trunk is splashed by your childish playing," Tom said as he entered, making both boys jump. His dark eyes surveyed the two, Alphard with his legs tucked underneath him in the floor and Abraxas halted mid step in front of Tom's bed.

"What are you doing just standing here Malfoy?" he demanded when they both silently stared at him.

"W-waiting for you Riddle," Abraxas lied hastily, "Mulciber said you wanted to speak with me. Something to do with the upcoming Slug Club dinner party."

Alphard resisted the urge to look up and chastise Malfoy for his exceptionally awful lying, keeping his eyes down as he skipped another rock. It did not skip at all but sunk into the bottom and vanished at once.

"Mulciber was, as usual, mistaken," Tom replied coolly, pulling a clean set of clothes off the top of his trunk, and going into the lavatory, apparently to shower. He seemed in a quite the hurry, not even taking the time to berate Alphard further.

Alphard and Abraxas were left in the room alone together again. The sound of the water running from the bathroom finally seemed to mobilize Abraxas, who moved to his bed rubbing his temples gingerly as his head began to throb, threatening a migraine.

"You don't think he. . ." Alphard asked quietly.

"He would be in a much better mood if he did anything," Abraxas sighed, laying down, "Goodnight Black."

"Night . . . arse," Alphard finally settled on an insult after a moment.

He heard Abraxas snort, though he had already drawn his hangings, so Alphard couldn't see if he had actually made him laugh. It would the first time, after all.

* * *

 **Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing/following/pming! To have even a few people who liked the story so far has made me ecstatic, because writing it has been so much fun.**

 **This chapter skips around a lot, I know, and I'm not a huge fan of it either, but I felt it was necessary to establish some things that will be important in future chapters.**


	5. Quidditch and Other Violent Games

**I officially have an outline for the rest of this story, yey! It's going to be very long - you've been warned. I'm trying to nail down what day works best for me to update so I may update again this week or it might be on the weekend, we will see. I've been thinking of giving my chapters real names, so if you all have suggestions I would love to hear them. Enjoy!**

* * *

October 4th, 1942

"Aren't you just adorable," Alphard taunted when Merissa sat down on her usual spot between him and her boyfriend on the morning before the first match of the year. Being between Ravenclaw and Slytherin she was decked out in blue and green, sporting a scarf and jumper she had modified to show her support for both houses. A heavy winter jacket was tucked in her arms as the weather had only grown wilder for the match. She was dressed as the dutiful girlfriend, and her costume included a convincing mask.

"Yes," Abraxas snapped over her head while he kissed her forehead briskly, "She is."

He turned back to his breakfast at record speed making Merissa think he was still quite afraid of her wrath. Which he should be. Not everyone tiptoed so carefully around her, however.

"That blue won't look so cute when we're flattening Ravenclaw," Nott smirked from across the table. He was already in his keeper garb, creating the illusion that a large brown egg was speaking and making it difficult for Merissa to be bothered by his fashion advice.

"Despite your abilities, Nott?" Alphard shot, "We'll do our best certainly, but the goal posts can only do so much to block themselves," he feigned an exhausted sigh.

"As long as you keep those bludgers away from us, Black, we will win by a huge margin," Abraxas retorted hotly.

The two Slytherins didn't get along in the best of times, but since the first night at Hogwarts, they had been at each other's throats. Being forced to work together in potions did nothing to remedy their friendship, and neither did any of the sneaking around the castle they did together after they pretended to go to bed. Merissa had to visit their table often, just to occupy the space between them, though of course she had no idea about their late night rendezvous.

"Mmm, thank you, Black!" she exclaimed, stealing a bite of the pastry he was holding, diverting his attention with her thievery. Alphard smirked at her and stole the muffin she had been picking at, popping the entire thing into his mouth.

After that, the table went back to relative silence. Nearly everyone was a tad nervous to see how this game would play out: two teams headed by young captains in this untamed weather. Abraxas himself took to monitoring the plates of his players, demanding they eat plenty of sausage and bacon while he own plate sat largely untouched. Merissa had begun making the crusts from her toast spin inconspicuously on her plate by the time Abraxas subsided, her hand leading the blackened remains from under the table. Alphard seemed to be the only one watching her closely enough to notice and they exchanged conspiratorial grins.

Abraxas cleared his throat pointedly before he turned to Tom who had been sitting beside him, eating his breakfast and pretending to ignore them, "Will you be coming to the match today, Riddle?" Abraxas asked hopefully.

Even Merissa couldn't help looking up as everyone else did, "I will be coming today," Riddle stated. Eyebrows rose all along the table. He hadn't attended a quidditch game in anyone's memory. Merissa had trouble imagining him in the rowdy Slytherin stands, though she guessed they were all terrified enough of him to keep from getting too wild near him. He certainly elicited less than celebratory reactions from her.

"That's excellent news, Riddle!" Olive Hornby said brightly, leaning in across Lestrange's broad frame. It seemed that despite their patrols together, she still wasn't allowed to call him by his first name. No one was.

"I simply have to go see what all the fuss is about I suppose," he replied, without bothering to look up at her from the defense book he had open on the table or even fake any inflection. Merissa grinned down at her plate, hiding her amusement.

"Quidditch is . . . great," Hornby floundered, trying to keep the conversation afloat despite that she knew next to nothing about the sport. Merissa mouthed her words mockingly back towards Alphard who laughed under his breath. Olive, however did not notice, too focused on Tom, "Abraxas is a really brilliant seeker . . . my dad comes out just to watch him sometimes. He says it's a crime Malfoy's parents are so set on the Ministry route - he'd be drafted for sure."

Tom's expression was still insultingly impassive, however Abraxas glowed slightly, his praise being sung to the one he admired the most.

"He's great," Merissa seconded, deciding to aid him, if only to infuriate Olive as well by stealing Riddle's attention away, "If he doesn't catch the snitch in thirty minutes, it's a real off day for him."

The other Slytherins watched with greater intensity. No one had seen her and Riddle interact for weeks other than potions, where they mainly spoke in crude sign language.

Tom looked up at her, finally having found something worth raising his eyes from his book from while Abraxas back-peddled, "You shouldn't boast, Mer. I wouldn't want to get Riddle's expectations too high and then not be able to perform."

 _Nothing terrifies him worse than disappointing Riddle_ , Merissa thought darkly. She stopped herself from glaring daggers at the offending boy by scowling at Mulciber and Lestrange, who were whispering to each other as they stared at her. Probably planning their next shift, she assumed, given that Mulciber stopped when he realized they had been caught. Lestrange continued staring, leering at her.

"Don't be modest, Abraxas," Tom was saying, still looking past him to his girlfriend, "I'm sure Miss Thorpe is telling no more than the simple truth."

Privately, he thought this was true as she seemed unable of anything except the simplest of functions. Which was why her pushing her way into his top spot in so many classes was so infuriating. He had no possessions of his own when he was younger, having grown up in the orphanage, so he lacked the ability to share anything, his spot on the top of every teacher's list included.

"Yes," Merissa managed to smile at him, "You're in for a great game."

"I will count on it," he said, "I am sure I'll have quite the show today."

She refused to look away again and instead smiled at him until his eyes returned to his reading. Next to him, Abraxas stabbed moodily at his sausages. Merissa was sure she would be getting a lecture later, if he did not win the game for them. Meanwhile, Lestrange was still lurking, even catching Alphard's attention now.

The team left shortly after, preventing her friend from asking her about it. Merissa went back to her table, not wishing to be next to Riddle without Abraxas as a buffer. When she reached the table, Susan was already leaving with the rest of the Ravenclaw team, looking slightly jittery. Merissa squeezed her hand as she passed, and the two girls exchanged small smiles.

About a half hour later, the fans were somewhat disgruntled about making their way outside, as the rain was now coming down sideways. Abby made a protective bubble around Merissa, James, and herself as they headed outside, preventing the rain from soaking them. Once in the Ravenclaw section of the stands, James conjured up a jar and filled it with bluebell flames, so they could all warm their hands around it. Merissa began transforming a string she had in her pocket until it was beautiful silver script hanging over them that read 'GO ABRAXAS'.

"You're such a traitor," Abby sneered, tugging at the end of Merissa's green and blue scarf playfully.

Merissa stuck her tongue out childishly at the ginger girl, before turning her attention back to the pitch, where the teams were emerging, already getting drenched. She cheered loudly with the rest of the stands. Abraxas grinned up and blew her a lofty kiss. He was evidently excited enough to return to his normal self, if only for the day.

"Ugh," Abby groaned, "I can't blame you, he's so sweet to you."

Merissa smiled vaguely in response as she watched Abraxas shake hands with William Davis, the lanky captain of the Ravenclaw team. She would rather focus her attention on the game then how things were between her and Abraxas. It was rather exhausting sometimes to pretend that they were as perfect as they pretended to be. The arbiter, Professor Brooks, was shouting something she couldn't hear at the teams as they mounted their brooms - she had no doubt however that it was a series of warnings, mostly directed towards the Slytherin chasers. At the blast of the whistle, they were a blur of green and blue, scattering throughout the field and the game began, the scarlet quaffle thrust up into the air. Susan was the first to get her hands on it, only to have it wrestled away from her by Avery, causing Brooks to shriek on his whistle again.

"Already a penalty, only a minute in," sighed James, cracking open his novel. He could enjoy a game when it was more focused on strategy, but whenever a team began beating too hard on the other, he lost his interest. This was too often the case.

"They're riled today," agreed Abby, her eyes flickering nervously between her tall friend, who was currently hovering not far over Brooks as he barked up at the large blond boy and Avery himself. Merissa shrugged, less concerned. She had seen Susan hold her ground with much larger boys. She could handle herself, especially up in the air, in her element.

Thomas waved at them as he whizzed by, roaming around the pitch as he searched for the snitch. Abby swooned, leaning against James's arm. Merissa rolled her eyes, looking past her co-prefect to the game. Abraxas would never be distracted by such a petty thing, which was why he would always be the better seeker.

"This is their resting state," James disagreed, shaking his head, "I just hope it ends before it gets too messy."

"Give Abraxas twenty minutes. He's on his game today. Riddle is supposed to be watching," Merissa said darkly. She knew firsthand how focused he could get when he desperately wanted something, and Riddle's praise was high on that list.

"Saint Riddle," Abby mocked, puffing out her chest pompously and earning a rare grin from James. Tom Riddle was incredibly unpopular in Ravenclaw house as a rule of thumb. Outperforming people shamelessly would have been highly respected, if he did not earn his house quite so many points.

Susan scored several goals on Nott before one of Ravenclaw's new chasers, Kevin Brown lost grip on the quaffle while dodging a bludger hit by Alphard. Slytherins took back possession of the quaffle and managed a goal after a few attempts. The Slytherin's were looking tired even with their first score of the game as Susan twisted around on her broom and managed to take the quaffle again. She tossed it behind her back to Davis, who caught it, though he had to swerve dramatically and almost lost the quaffle avoiding another one of Alphard's bludgers. Davis managed to keep his grip on the red ball however and shot over to the hoops, making it past Nott's slippery fingers. Merissa cheered shamelessly as Susan intercepted the quaffle again and started zooming off towards the goal post. Even from here, Susan's rather smug expression was clear as she made a rather impressive shot past half the Slytherin team. It was really a complete crime that she had not been made captain.

Suddenly on the other end of the field, Thomas sprung into a dive. The crowd collectively gasped, some jumping to their feet, binoculars pressed hard against their faces. Abraxas seemed to see it too, the glaring difference being that his dive was almost completely perpendicular. There was another loud gasp from the audience as he began the descent, the handle of his broom pointing directly to the hard earth below. It was testament to his raw flying skills that he managed to stay on his broom at this angle, his whole body streamlined as his right hand extended. He flattened out his broom just in time to snatch the snitch and land lightly on his feet. The stands erupted in applause and Merissa stood up out of her seat to cheer along with them, though several of her housemates looked as if they had desperately hoped Abraxas would have just fallen and broken his nose for good measure.

"Oh bother! Hardly fifteen minutes in," Abby yelled over the din, some of their housemates beginning to roar in anger, "And Susan was just about to score again! She'll be furious with herself. At least they'll be a party tonight then, right?"

"I'm sure," laughed Merissa, "Don't let Susan beat herself up too much. I'm going to head down to congratulate him."

"You should go down and congratulate him!" Abby yelled through the screaming of the crowd. Merissa laughed again and nodded.

She had to push through countless classmates before making it to the steps. She ducked to avoid being speared by a dark umbrella hovering over a gang of boisterous Slytherins as she reached them. Now that she was away from Abby and her handy bubble charm Merissa's robes were beginning to get damp, but she didn't care enough to stop and produce her own umbrella. Once on the stairs she was forced to walk at the agonizingly slow speed of her mourning housemates. It had been a hard loss, especially since the Ravenclaw chasers were objectively better. When she finally escaped onto the pitch, she was relieved to feel like she could breathe again. Abraxas admittedly still had a large group of teammates and fans around him, though they parted for Merissa.

"Congratulations," she said, wrapping her arms around him, making him wince back slightly before hugging her uncertainly.

They were equally drenched at this point. Abraxas' hair had escaped its usual parting and was laying in light tendrils that kept falling onto his forehead despite his hands near constant attempt to push them back. His breathes were still labored and they came off as great puffs of steam in the cold air, making him look like some odd sort of dragon.

"Someone is taking a picture of us," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "I think they're from The Prophet."

"Why do you think you're being permitted to touch me," she hissed back, "Just smile. Our parents will see it and they will stay off our backs for a while."

Abraxas pretended to tighten his hug before she pulled back, a smile still intact.

"I suppose I promised Riddle a good show, but you really made it happen."

He beamed, though his smile did not need to be faked anymore, "Was he really here? Watching?"

"Er-" Merissa began. She had not actually seen his brooding friend.

"Oh, he came all right," giggled Olive Hornby from nearby. She had just come with the group of Slytherins Merissa had been in front of, "He sat with us. Was so polite, clapping for you guys and all. He even left us with his umbrella here. Such a gentleman."

Merissa wanted to roll her eyes but seeing how elated Abraxas was to hear this news, even she didn't have the spite to ruin it for him. She instead turned to give Alphard a hug, who was in deep discussion with the other Slytherin beater, Kenneth Wilson. It never failed to strike her how carefree they seemed compared to Abraxas. They were both equally steaming in the chilled rain, their hot skin and breath combining to make almost a cloud of vapor around them, droplets of water flying from their hair as they laughed.

"I'm soaking and I smell like a shoe," he warned her seriously, but she ignored him. He was still taller than her, yet hugging him did not feel as one sided and awkward as Abraxas always did.

Kenneth grinned and nodded to her in greeting, before clapping Alphard on the back, heading back to the locker rooms no doubt.

"Those were some great shots," she told Alphard earnestly, "And that is from someone who has been subjected to watching you, Susan and Abraxas for years and is still unclear about most penalties."

"I gratefully accept your un-expert opinion," he laughed, "Though is the flattery just to make sure I order you and Susan some bubbly as well as firewhiskey for tonight? Because I already did."

"I knew there was a reason," she agreed, smirking now as well. His good mood was as infectious as dragon pox, "Now go shower! Has anyone told you that you smell like a shoe?" she teased.

"Someone mentioned it I think," he allowed. He ruffled her soaking hair up, making her crinkle her nose at him, "Messy is a great look on you by the way. See you, Thorpe"

She watched him fondly as he headed back in the same direction Kenneth had left for a moment before turning back to Abraxas, who was so distracted by the small hoard of fans and teammates surrounding him that he hadn't seem to have noticed her and Alphard's exchange.

"I'll meet you later near the common room?" she asked having to pull rather roughly on his arm to get his attention. He looked slightly dazed, but completely content.

He placed a kiss on her cheek, "Yes love, just give me a few hours to clean up and I'll be all yours."

She smiled at him one last time for the benefit of the crowd and the presence of the reporter from the prophet who was now interviewing Olive (as she had insisted she was the leading expert on the Slytherin team as soon as she saw there was press). As Merissa headed towards the castle she found herself alone, the initial rush of students were gone at this point, and just a few trickled in now and then. She stopped once inside, deciding to transform the blue stripes on her scarf to silver, now that she knew which victory party she would be attending. She pushed her wet hair out of her face so she could clearly see the fabric before tapping it with her wand. The blue stripes turned into a bright sliver and she flipped it back around her neck.

"Trying to camouflage yourself, Thorpe?" an intense voice boomed. She looked up and found Lestrange smiling devilishly as he swaggered towards her from the entrance of the castle.

"Yes . . . haha," she laughed lamely, taking a few steps back. He had always made her nervous. He reminded her of a large feral animal - unpredictable and dangerous. Right now, he looked particularly predatory, his lips pulled back around his large teeth, eyes shining brightly as if he was waiting for her to understand a joke he just told.

"Got to be ready for -" she began lightly, but she had thunked into a body behind her. A hand groped down into her pocket and after a moment she became horribly aware of the sudden lightless inside. Someone had just snatched her wand.

Her heart was in her throat as she turned, trying to slow her movements so she would not slip on the floor, which was now wet from her dripping robes. Travers had started to snake his arm around her waist before she pushed back quickly, now stuck between him, Lestrange and a newly appeared Mulciber. He waved her wand in his hand tauntingly, though she was not at all tempted to snatch it back. This close, she could smell the firewhiskey coming off his breath strongly. They had obviously started the festivities early.

"Oh, hello Travers," she said, forcing her voice down an octave from where it wanted to be, "You know maybe you three can come with me? I was just about to meet with Abraxas," she lied quickly. She was unable to stop her feet from moving a few steps back despite her steady voice however. The smell of alcohol was so overpowering her head swam just breathing the same air as them.

"We heard that . . . after he gets all pretty. We all know how long that takes," Travers let out a snicker. And it was true too - Abraxas was often criticized for taking up the shower for so long, even from her when they were vacationing together. He wouldn't be missing her for several hours.

She tried to smile back at him as if this was an innocent enough of an observation. Somewhere she knew there was a witty response for this but her mouth felt so dry and her mind was so painfully blank, she found she couldn't even open in except to take sharp inhalation. Another step back.

"We'll have you back by then," Lestrange promised, looming over her. They had corralled her into the end of a deserted hallway and her back was a few mere feet away from the wall now. She nervously extended a hand back to feel the wall, so she wouldn't bang her head into it. Nothing would have pleased her more if it were a few - or a few hundred - meters further back so she could continue to evade them, possibly long enough for her mind to stop giving her nothing but static.

"We have this question you see, Thorpe," Mulciber spoke now, eyes bright with excitement, "Abraxas never talks about having you. We want to know if that's because you're nothing worth talking about, or if you're really just that much of a tease."

Merissa winced away from Mulciber, which only made his grin widen. Her full palm was now pressed against the wall and she could not move any further back without having her back fully to the cold stone. _This is not happening_ she thought desperately. It was too risky, even for these dolts, and they must know Malfoy would give them hell to pay for even talking to her like this. She was Merissa Thorpe, and no one ever dared touch her.

She fought back a shiver, her damp robes cold now in the drafty hall. She refused to let them think that she was scared of them.

"Sorry," Merissa snapped indignantly, pushing him back with both hands, her courage resurfaced, "I don't think I can help you with that."

He managed to catch her hands, twisting them back, gripping both of her wrists in one palm, like Abraxas had on the train. But instead of putting them gently down, as he had, Mulciber pushed them roughly up against the wall behind her, "I think you can Thorpe," he whispered, hot breath prickling against her neck, "And whatever I think or want, is what's going to happen."

She flinched back from his other hand and he sloppily pushed back her wet hair from her face. He laughed, perfusing her face with the stale scent of alcohol as he whispered, "Poor doll is always so cold. Someone ought to warm her up."

She pushed him back with her foot, deciding this was a time for desperate measures. She didn't like revealing her favorite tricks, but she reasoned that if they were stupid enough to try and touch her, they were stupid enough to not understand.

"Let go," she said, voice suddenly very dark, "I don't care about hurting you, and I will."

Lestrange laughed and pressed closer to her. She could tell by the way he was holding himself beside her that he wasn't interested in the things Mulciber and Travers where, but would love to see her scream either way. She always knew he was a sadist.

"Little ice princess thinks she holds any clout around us when she's not -"

Merissa never found out what he thought she needed to have to matter, because the three of them were thrown back against the wall with a loud crack that sounded as if the heavy white limestone itself had spilt down to its core. She turned on her heel to observe them, all gasping as they hung pressed against the rock.

"Hmm," she mused, reaching up to pat Mulciber's cheek forcefully, as he was closest to her, "That's interesting. I didn't mean to immobilize you too, but no matter. This way I don't even need to take your wands."

She examined her handiwork, the three of them looking down at her like large, ugly marionette puppets on strings. Travers was the farthest up, the top of his dusty colored hair nearly brushing the ceiling. She had no idea why he had flown the highest as she had never done this before, but it amused her nonetheless. Even if he managed to unstick himself, the fall would hurt. Mucliber and Lestrange were just high enough to be within her reach. They would fair better, if just be stuck was fairing well. She met eyes with the dark haired boy, his eyes still narrowed at her as they always were.

"Although, I think I'll take your wand anyways Lestrange, just because I'm sure you were the brains behind this."

She put a hand on his robes, fishing for the shorter piece of blackthorn, his eyes fixed furiously on her as she did so, "I guess this is as close you'll get to answering that question, huh? Nothing personal, just a pride thing I guess," she assured him, "I like trophies."

She waved his gnarled wand in front of his nose before continuing, "And you all have detention of course, every Saturday until Christmas break. . . for disrespecting a prefect you see."

Mulciber's eyes bulged to a comical size. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to yell for help, but Merissa saw him and with a flourish of her hand, he found himself moving his mouth, though no sound would come out. He looked bitterly down at her.

"Don't look at me like that, I could have you expelled for attacking me," Merissa laughed, "I'm being incredibly generous. . .Oh and I'll take that!" she added brightly, summoning her wand from Travers' frozen hand. She enjoyed the warmth it brought to her fingers as she tucked it away, deeper into her robes this time. She was never one to make the same mistake twice.

"I believe that's all I'll ever need from you though, so I'll be on my way. I'd tell you when this is likely to wear off, but I just don't know," she shrugged her shoulders and offered them one last teasing smile before waltzing off to go get ready for the party. She was sure they wouldn't make the same mistake again either.

/_\

The commotion below him had been going on for a while when Tom finally decided to go down and meet with Lestrange and the others, to hear what had happened with Thorpe. He had told them that they would come to him, but with the party raging below, he wouldn't be surprised if he didn't see them for several more hours. And he was not that patient.

It had been on Riddle's direction that they corner her. He wanted to know what she was capable of if she felt threatened. He had gathered that she always performed well in other classes, although he could observe her only in Potions and see her taking notes in Arithmancy, which ultimately left him with minimal information. He knew Abraxas would be happy to tell him anything he wanted to know, but he would rather not risk it getting back to her. She was no threat, he was sure, yet her competitiveness peeved him endlessly.

As he reached the common room, he decided they would be punished for making him come down into this din. It was disgusting enough to hear it - seeing the crude tomfoolery happening down here made his lip curl. He scanned the common room once, twice, and then thrice before realizing two things. One, his henchmen were not present. There was an assortment of people who he did not know the names of scattered throughout as well as few from his own house whom he did. Secondly, although his cronies were nowhere to be seen, she was. She was being quite conspicuous, opening a bottle of mead from atop a table, the foam bursting out on her and her taller friend beside her, causing them both to laugh furiously and splash more mead onto the table at their feet. He stared at her for a moment, disbelieving, before his view was obscured by a tall blond.

"Are they being too loud, Riddle?" Abraxas asked seriously, "I was just reminding her a moment ago to keep it down. . ." he trailed off at the sternness of Riddle's expression.

She hadn't told him anything then. This shook Riddle further. If she hadn't told Malfoy, it was because she had handled it on her own and hadn't needed to.

"Where are Mulciber, Travers and Lestrange?" he asked shortly.

"Er. . ." Abraxas furrowed his brow, "I actually haven't seen them since the end of the match. They might have found some Ravenclaw girls and decided to have a smaller party. Sorry I couldn't be of more help, Riddle."

 _They found a Ravenclaw all right_ , Tom thought darkly, looking past Malfoy at the laughing girl. Abraxas glanced nervously over his shoulder to see what Tom was glaring at, "Do you want me to ask Mer?" he asked uncertainly, "She might know if it was one of her friends they're with."

"I would be fascinated to hear what Miss Thorpe has to say on the issue," Tom flashed without looking at Abraxas.

Abraxas gave the dark boy another wary smile before moving to his rambunctious girlfriend, pulling her hand to get her attention. Tom saw her leggy friend give Abraxas a venomous look and whispered something in her ear.

"Oh no, it's the party police," Merissa frowned, peering down at him with some effort.

"Merissa," he said seriously, pulling her down onto his lap to steady her, "Do you know where Travers, Mulciber and Lestrange are?"

She looked taken aback, before her eyes traveled knowingly to where Tom had just appeared. Olive was already chatting with him although he was looking only at Merissa. Of course, he was behind this; she really should have guessed. Amazingly, this brought her great relief, as this had apparently been his first move then. And it was weak. She gave Tom a huge wink, causing him to turn back around into his dormitory. He understood all he needed to. Hornby looked offended at his swift departure and followed where his gaze had been, scowling when she realized it was Merissa.

Merissa, meanwhile, turned back to her puzzled boyfriend.

"They tried to corner me after the match today," she told him bluntly, "Their intentions seemed poor at best. I took care of it."

Abraxas groaned and rubbed his face, sobering quickly. He had been careless today, excited by the win and Riddle's apparent attention. He was sure it had been strategic now.

"That was unnecessary my dove. I will take care of it. I am glad nothing happened to you."

"Nothing happened because I took care of it," Merissa insisted, her chin protruding. He was never quick to give her credit, but she was particularly defensive about this victory. She had defended her own honor.

"Nevermind that, I will take care of it. I just need to tell Riddle first."

Merissa did not suppress this particular eye roll, "Run off to him then. I'll just be here."

Abraxas gave her a halfhearted disapproving look before departing for the stairs. Alphard quickly took his spot, though he found it very hard to care. A month ago, Alphard seemed like the worst thing that could happen to Merissa, but now his intentions seemed remarkably harmless. Abraxas was careful to knock before entering the dormitory, as they all did when Riddle was inside.

"Come in," Tom's voice called indifferently.

Abraxas wished his heart didn't always hammer so hard at his silky tone.

/_\

Meanwhile, downstairs, Merissa was leaning back on the table, spinning her blackthorn prize in the puddles of mead. Actually drinking the mead was less appealing now and she had left Susan go off to make rounds with the bottle. It was no wonder they were always welcome here - they kept everyone's glass full. The wand was steaming as it encountered the amber liquid. It seemed unhappy to be in her hands, unyielding as its owner.

"Isn't your wand spruce or something?" Alphard asked looking at the stubby dark wand with interest.

"Cypress," she said, mesmerized by the swirling vapor, "And dragon heart strings."

"So. . . whose is that?" he asked.

"No one's of consequence," Merissa said, pocketing the wand, "Not anymore at least."

/_\

Upstairs, Abraxas came into the dormitory and, with less grace than usual, sat down on his bed. To an outsider it might not be clear what so special about it. All of the beds were handsome, dark wood draped in emerald hangings that reached for the impossible high ceiling and the dim lanterns that hung from it. The placement, rather than the bed itself made it coveted. It sat directly to the right of Tom's, a place of great honor which Lestrange had fought him over. Ultimately, it was Riddle who decided Abraxas could have the bed. He decided everything, after all.

Tom watched him curiously as he dragged his hands over his face on anguish, before moving his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinching. His eyes were shut tight. Perhaps Abraxas felt more for the Thorpe girl than he had gauged. That was a pity.

"They aren't here because they attacked her. . . or at least tried to. I must ask to retaliate, my Lord. I don't want to cause conflict, but she's betrothed to me. I can't have them tarnishing her."

Ah, not love then, Tom decided. That was better, but still annoying. After all, Tom couldn't have his best devotees killing each other.

"You will do nothing," he told him.

Abraxas' head swiveled up from his hands, nonplussed. Riddle stared back, daring him to question his order. Malfoy finally dipped his head and said quietly, "Yes my Lord."

Tom was satisfied by this, and leaned back into his bed, engaging back with his book. After a few minutes of silence, Abraxas asked meekly, "Would you like me to go and find them, my lord? To retrieve them. It may be more prudent, Merissa surely did something that will keep them incapacitated for the rest of the night."

"No," Tom replied, displeased to be interrupted for the second time in just minutes, "They were bested by a little girl. They deserve to suffer through whatever she did to them. Anyways, I have no purpose for them at this hour."

Abraxas simply nodded, knowing better than to speak again. He eventually moved from his bed to change into night clothes, and when he came back, he laid on top of his covers, lost in thought staring at the satin canopy above him. Tom noticed that he jostled his foot though, clearly still uncomfortable.

Eventually, Andrew Nott came up as well, being the only other fifth year Slytherin who hadn't been involved in the ambush, other than Alphard - but Alphard rarely came back up after parties, electing rather to sleep on one of the couches.

"Your girlfriend sure can throw a party, Abraxas," Andrew hummed sleepily, crawling into bed without bothering to change, "I should tell you though, Black looked like he was getting real brave with her just now."

"He can try whatever he wants. I'd like to see what excuse he gives Madame Charron when she hexes his eyebrows off," Abraxas said, smiling slightly at the thought. He rather enjoyed her intensely spirited demeanor, though it was one his best kept secrets. If it did not constantly get her (and him by association) into trouble, he might have even been fond of it.

"Such a floozy," Riddle commented expressionlessly, making Abraxas physically cringe in shame, "She seems to have bit more of an appetite for attention than one man can give. How many have been after her just today Malfoy?"

Abraxas looked like he might cry or vomit, so Riddle smirked and turned over, deciding he was ready to sleep now.


	6. Stolen Wands

**I told you it wouldn't be long! I planned to post this on Friday, but I just got so excited when I finished editing, in addition to the kind words of encouragement I've been getting from you all wonderful people. As always, enjoy.**

* * *

October 5th, 1942

"There is absolutely no way that she wandlessly and silently threw, stuck and immobilized all three of you against a wall for fourteen hours," Tom informed his gang of unsuccessful ruffians, spreading a thin layer of apple butter over his toast. He took a large bite and looked at them expectantly.

"Fifteen," corrected Mulciber, rubbing his neck gingerly, however before Tom could even finish swallowing he hastily continued, "But of course we could be mistaken. Not just about the time, but everything. She could have had her wand and just whispered, then we just got hit so hard after we thought. . ." he trailed off as he was getting nasty looks from both Riddle and Lestrange now.

"Well I was not mistaken," Lestrange said firmly, "She's some kind of freak. No wonder Malfoy only brings her around for parties."

He looked down the table to where Abraxas was exiled. The only place he had managed to secure was a spot next to a group of particularly obnoxious fourth years. Although Abraxas was quidditch captain, most people in Slytherin knew that Riddle's word was law. And Abraxas looked worse for it. Just yesterday afternoon he was on top of the world, and now he was having to fight for elbow space. He hadn't dared move to the Ravenclaw table though, where the root of his solitude was speaking chipperly with her friends. Everyone seemed to be angry at Abraxas at the moment, though their reasons varied.

Black, on the other hand, had joined the blue clad table and was looking quite comfortable, chatting with a boyish brunette whom Tom had seen around Thorpe a lot, but had not bothered to learn the name of. The girl was tossing her sheet of dark hair as she spoke and giving Alphard a warm smile. Merissa herself said something to small dark boy beside her - his name escaped Tom - and her boyish friend lost her audience, (though Merissa didn't seem aware of this).

"Even if it was a verbal, wand spell, it would have had to be incredibly strong," he crisply, though the way she had just captured the attention of her friends made him uncomfortable. She clearly had influence, even if she was too ignorant to use it.

"Do you really think that boney girl contains that kind of power?," he demanded when they said nothing, "Because I find it questionable, at best," he finished disparagingly.

Travers shifted uncomfortably, "I've heard she's pretty volatile. You should see the marks Abraxas has, and most are just from growing up together. . . He walks on eggshells around her, even now. It's downright unnatural."

"Do not be absurd," Riddle snapped, but he wished Malfoy was closer now. He had never taken time to look at his arms before, of course. His eyes flashed to the apparent perpetrator, but she was currently fishing some egg out of her red-headed friend's hair, laughing, and didn't notice him. He scowled at her crudeness and turned his attention away, deciding there was no way she had done the magic his classmates had described.

/_\

Merissa was shaking as she picked another piece of breakfast out of Abby's vibrant locks. Both of them were giggling, and her friend's big brown eyes were starting to fill with tears of laughter, "This is disgusting, Black," Merissa said as seriously as she could, "In case you were wondering."

He grinned at her, "Good. I would have done it to you, but your hair just doesn't have the grip. It'd fall right out, and what fun would that be."

Merissa pushed her dark waves back and raised an elegant eyebrow at him, "I agree, though it would be fun to muss up those pretty locks of yours, even if I couldn't keep any egg in it."

Alphard smirked again, but the effect was slightly weakened when some heat crept into his cheeks. Merissa quickly averted her eyes, "All done, Abby!"

"Thank Merlin," Abby sighed as she began to fluff up her locks, "Wouldn't want to look anything but my best for double potions today, right Susan?" she asked, leaning over with mischievous glint in her eyes.

If the comment meant anything to Susan, she didn't show it.

"Whatever are you talking about, Abby? The Slug Club is already closed, none of us but Al and Re got in."

"Yes well, we'll have to see if you find your way to a few parties anyways," said Abby, sitting back in her seat, and looking amused.

Merissa looked between the two before deciding it would have to be a question for later. She began preparing herself a cup of tea from the large kettle on the table. She looked up to find the cream, but found instead that Alphard was already extending it towards her.

"I'm not getting predictable, am I?" she joked, accepting the jug.

"Some things never change," he replied, "Burnt toast, apple butter and tea. I'm pretty sure at least one of those means you're a sociopath, but we'll love you anyways."

"Thanks," she snorted, and then turned back to James, "As I was saying before Blacks' eggy interruption, I want to talk to Merrythought about dropping a class to do that independent research period you choose."

"Did you not decide against that class last year because you knew how impossible getting either of your parents' signatures would be?" Susan queried.

"Yes, but you should see Abraxas' forgery of them," Merissa replied, smirking.

"In what world has Malfoy ever been nice enough to forge a signature for you?" Alphard demanded, looking positively shaken by the idea.

"He hasn't," Merissa admitted, "But he has beautiful handwriting and I feel like I could think of things to motivate him to."

A third year Ravenclaw with thick rimmed glasses glanced up at this, eyes as wide as dinner plates at the comment, but Susan gave her such an aggressive mug that she quickly looked back at the table.

"What exactly are you lording over Malfoy these days?" Abby asked quietly after scanning the nearby table for potential eavesdroppers.

"It's not important," Merissa brushed off, "The important thing is I can start joining James in his noble exploration of knowledge."

Alphard chortled and Susan commented drily, "Keep talking like that and you'll convince Merrythought of anything. She's always been so disappointed that you never took any interest in her class. Though dueling lately on the other hand. . ."

Merissa ignored her comment, picking up her teacup to add a touch more lemon. She took a sip, only to almost spit it back out when hands suddenly were on her shoulders.

She whipped around and found her older brother looking down at her disdainfully.

"Come," he ordered, though he seemed to guess (correctly) that she wouldn't listen to him so he put a firm hand on her upper arm and steered her out of the Great Hall. Once they were through the door he seemed to decide it was private enough and stopped.

"What, Joseph?" she snapped, yanking her arm back. He had really spooked her, although admittedly it was becoming easier by the day.

"I just had the strangest conversation with Lestrange, little sister," he spat back.

Her eyes widened at him, but she didn't say anything, so he went on, "You see, he wanted to buy a wand from me. He knows you and I both have some extra from father of course," she nodded, still confused why he was telling her this, "And I asked why he didn't come to you first, since I thought you two would be chummy because of Abraxas. And you wouldn't believe what he told me."

She now understood where this was going but just stared up innocently at him.

"He told me, that you were the one who was holding his wand hostage in the first place. And that you were the one who stuck him and those other boys to that wall. Did you know they had to cut their robes to get them down?" she pretended to look surprised.

"Why would someone stick them to a wall?" she asked, blinking her long lashes at him.

"That's what I asked, but then he got all cagey on me," Joseph glared at her even deeper, "Which is why I decided to come to the source."

"Well I don't know why Lestrange would be so delusional," Merissa said, peering at the doors as i she could see the Slytherin through them, "Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought. I'm a prefect after all."

She displayed her badge proudly to him as if it proved something divine.

Joseph eyes narrowed, "I never said he hit his head."

"Of course, you did, brother,' she said, patting his arm as she began back into the hall, "Otherwise I couldn't have known that. Good morning!"

/_\

"So, what was Joseph asking you about?" Susan asked, cornering Merissa in the library later that day. Merissa had been purposefully avoiding everyone today, partially because Riddle's move against her had made her eager to research more defensive magic and partially because she was concerned she would incriminate herself, somehow making another slip about what happened to Lestrange and company.

"Just being a dolt," Merissa said, unwilling to make eye contact as she put a book back onto the shelf hastily, hoping Susan wouldn't be able to read the cover, "Nothing new really."

"It wouldn't be," Susan agreed, leaning against the shelf, and narrowing her eyes at the book, "Funny though, this is the bowtruckle section, but that book is about defensive magic. Which I could buy was for Defense class, except we're working on dementors."

"I just found it," Merissa fibbed, turning her back to Susan and moving to her favorite studying area. It had a particularly wide arm chair that she enjoyed lounging on while she read, "I was putting it back."

"I'm sure you did just find it . . . in the defensive spells section . . . on the shelf," Susan extended, taking the seat beside her, "And you'd never put a book back in the wrong section. This place is your church."

"I need to claim sanctuary with this interrogation," Merissa grumbled, opening her transfiguration book onto her lap, "Have you started the essay yet? I wasn't sure what to say about reptile vs bird transformations."

"You were the one who told me to discuss how blood temperature effects it when I asked you Saturday," Susan said calmly, "You even pulled out your essay, which I might add looked finished when -"

"Okay, okay!" Merissa granted, snapping her book shut, "I'm horrible at avoiding."

"Avoiding what?" Susan asked, lowering her voice, and leaning in.

Merissa bit her lip as she gazed at her friend. On one hand, she had already promised herself she wouldn't utter a word to anyone until she knew what was happening, which she didn't. Conversely, she did know Tom seemed to be orchestrating it all. Besides, since her latest stunt, it was inconceivable he would continue to have her trailed.

And she longed to be honest with someone . . .

"Riddle has been messing with me this year. I made the mistake to challenge him a few times in the beginning of the year, and apparently he hasn't gotten over it."

To her surprise, Susan snorted at this. Merissa frowned, "There is nothing funny about being tousled up by him. He's vengeful."

"No, that's not what I meant," Susan amended, "Sorry. It isn't funny - he's always given me the heebie-jeebies. And everyone knows what happened to Roger Travers."

Merissa shut her jaw tight. She had admittedly forgotten about the oldest Traver's brother. He had gone missing after his sixth year, which was consequently right after he had a rather heated argument with Riddle. There had been whispers that it had been Tom, and when he had showed up to Hogwarts his third year and taken Roger's place as the leader of the darkest group of Slytherins, everyone agreed that he has been involved with his disappearance. Unsurprisingly, this story only solidified his place as leader and everyone was terrified of him

"What did you mean?" Merissa asked, unwilling to acknowledge Susan's last comment out loud.

"Oh," Susan shrugged, "Anyways, while that is bad, it's not what I thought was happening. What was funny was that, of course he hasn't let it go. Have you?"

"No," Merissa scoffed.

"That's my point Re," she explained, "You're competitive. Either one of you needs to win or someone forfeits. There's no ending without a clear victor."

/_\

Abraxas Malfoy was having an atrocious month, despite having everything he would have wished for just a year previous. He was excelling in classes due to all the extra studying he was doing with Merissa. He had performed spectacularly at the last quidditch match, and he had received a letter just this morning from the minister's assistant, praising his performance during his month-long internship. Even Merissa had become relatively compliant with her partying.

Things seemed to have complicated themselves tri-fold just since this summer though. He was currently being chastised by Riddle for seemingly little reason. Riddle was often hard on them, but this was unprecedented. Merissa herself seemed to hate him now and he spent his free time sneaking around with Alphard Black, who was quite possibly his least favorite person in all of Hogwarts at the moment. Abraxas felt like he had been castrated, and the others were unwilling to let him lick his wounds in peace.

"Where is your girlfriend, Malfoy? Still of with that blood traitor, Black?" Travers laughed as Abraxas entered the room of requirements, where Riddle had summoned them.

They regularly met here, about twice a week or whenever Tom wanted them. He kept them all on their toes, wanting updates about the comings and goings of Hogwarts. Sometimes he would have them just report. Sometimes he would have them practice new spells from the restricted section. The only constant was the apprehension they all felt before hand.

Abraxas gave him the best sneer he could manage, "Well we all know she certainly couldn't be with you. You nearly faint every time you see her."

It was true. Both Travers and Mulciber looked like they wanted to run out of the castle every time Merissa had gotten close to them lately. Abraxas felt a surge of pride every time he saw this, before he would remember that he too was nervous around Merissa now. She was changing from the girl they had all known growing up into someone they didn't recognize.

Travers moved forward angrily before a voice called lazily, "Leave him, Malfoy."

Abraxas would have snapped that he was 'simply standing with his wand drawn' to anyone else, but this was Riddle, and he knew better. He stowed his wand away in a deep pocket and turned his attention to Tom who was moving to a dusty couch, which when he reached, he lounged across. His robes draped around his lean frame, making him look like a brooding prince, which was in more ways than one, rather accurate. He waited for them to assemble around him in their orderly semicircle and for them to begin to feel uncomfortable before he spoke.

"What news is there?"

There was the usual beat of silence when they all feared no one had anything and they therefore would be subjected to Riddle's displeasure, before someone piped up.

"I overheard Merrythought mentioning to Dumbledore something about leaving him that nonsense silver shiny trinket he's always borrowing," Davao Rosier tried, stepping forward bravely, "I thought that might mean she plans on taking leave."

During these meetings were one of the only times Rosier was seen without his twin sister, Druella, by his side. He appeared much smaller without her, just a mousy boy whom was often used as a punching bag for practice. He had quickly picked up that for some inexplicable reason, Abraxas had taken his spot recently. It had done wonders for his confidence.

"Or retiring," Tom considered, twirling his heavy ring around his finger, "Hogwarts will need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor then. That's good. Anything else?"

The other boys all flinched away from him as he scanned over them. His eyes stopped at the tallest of them.

"Tell me Malfoy, do you have anything worthy of my attention?"

Abraxas looked taken aback, as he was still getting used to being the scapegoat.

"Nothing that comes to mind, my Lord," he said quickly.

"What of your plans for this holiday?" Tom continued, spinning his ring faster and faster as he spoke.

It wasn't just Malfoy who looked confused now, but Lestrange was grinning, "F-France my Lord. Mer- Thorpe and I are going to her family's house there," his forehead creased, "Would you like to come a-along or-"

"Don't make me laugh, Malfoy," Riddle cut him off coldly, standing up, "I will simply require your services this vacation. I'm afraid you will have to cancel these plans."

Lestrange snickered, but Tom only looked at him coolly as well, "That will go for all of you. I have set several goals for the end of this year and I plan to utilize the vacation to achieve significant parts of them."

Lestrange blanched, "But surely, my Lord, you would be able to do these things even without the extra time during-"

"Of course I could, Lestrange. That is not the question. The question is why I should have to wait. That will be all. You are all dismissed."

None of the boys risked saying a word of resistance while still in the room, but Tom could see how disgruntled almost all of them were as they trickled out of the room. Individual correction was common, however, a mass punishment of this caliber hadn't been evoked since third year when Riddle was new to leadership.

Only Malfoy dared remain, staring determinedly at his highly polished shoes as his leader ignored him entirely. After a few minutes, Abraxas cleared his throat. Tom would have been impressed with his gall, were he not already so irritated at the boy.

"I will not be changing my mind because of your ski plans, Malfoy," Riddle said callously. He wished to be left alone so he could begin working on his project. Being inside this room made his hands itch to be on the worn leather bindings of ancient books.

"No, my Lord," Abraxas said, unwilling to meet his eyes, "I simply wonder - no - I crave to know what I have done to earn your displeasure."

"You should not expect me to explain myself to you," he spat dismissively. Malfoy's face sunk, "However, because I wish for you to improve, I will tell you. I think you must have put Miss Thorpe up to something, given her reckless behavior this year."

Abraxas was appalled, "Nothing could be further from the truth! I have reprimanded her on several occasions. I do not understand why she is acting the way she is any more than you do."

"Plausible, as you seem to understand nothing. Nonetheless, if you cannot control her, someone else will have to. Somehow, I doubt Lestrange or Travers would be so gentle with her again. Do you disagree?"

"Of course not, my Lord," Malfoy said again, bowing his head, "I will be sure she doesn't pester you further. Though I assure you, she is ignorant. She believes we are just friends."

"How absurd," Riddle commented.

Abraxas winced again, but kept his head down, "Is there anything else my Lord?"

"Nothing."

Riddle listened to Malfoy scuttle out of the room before moving from his spot on the couch. He moved past several mounds of furniture and a large decorative vase that was making soft squawking sounds to a pile of threadbare books that he had begun sorting through. When he had first discovered the come and go room, he had been pleased to find a place where he could meet and work on some of the more questionable magic he liked to experiment with. He had been blind to all the knowledge hidden underneath old Persian rugs and behind broken armchairs.

Many of the books he found were simply too faded to read anymore, and even more were entirely pointless. However, he had found a few hidden gems. There was a book on some of the darker magic that even the restricted section dare only mention. He was sure someone had stashed it away here, fearing the trouble they could get into if a teacher caught them with it. One book he was fairly sure was a personal journal written by Salazar Slytherin himself. How it had come to live in this junk room, he had no idea, but he had been carefully restoring it since its discovery.

He picked up the journal and opened the bindings around it by whispering in Parseltongue to them. He leafed through the pages he had so far managed to make legible, which was hardly substantial given the thickness of the book. Thus far, it was just general records of blaise days, but Tom was hopeful for what would come in the later pages. The dates indicated that if the author wrote a similar amount throughout, the journal would end around the time the founder left Hogwarts. Still, there was much work to be done before anything would be clear, so Riddle sat down and began to mutter quietly, tapping his wand on the book, the sound echoing around the otherwise abandoned room.


	7. Death of a Malfoy

**Ah! So much happens in this chapter, but splitting it into two just didn't make any sense, so anyways here's a big one and hopefully it's not overwhelming.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

October 25th, 1942

Susan pulled uncomfortably at the high collar of the dress she had borrowed. The fabric stretched oddly as it had not been made by someone with such a mighty frame and even Susan who knew next to knowing about fashion realized it should not be, "Ugh. This is awful. I regret being important."

"You must really be struggling," Abby grumbled from her bed, flipping through Witch Weekly rather violently, "Bet you wish Slughorn never saw that score you made through four Slytherin's now, don't you?"

Susan ignored her, looking over at Merissa whom was also getting dressed, "See, you can actually pull that off!" she said, gesturing to her midnight blue dress, "You have such a dainty frame. I have man shoulders."

"You have substance to you," Merissa said fondly, brushing Susan's long black hair to her shoulder, "Like a warrior. We'll just have to find you something in your actual size over the holidays, since you're sure to be a regular of the Slug Club once Slughorn talks with you tonight."

Susan looked unconvinced and continued to pull at her collar as Merissa pulled her own hair back and put on one of the pearl strands her mother had sent her with.

"Do I look like a proper young lady?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at Susan, hoping to distract her from pulling at the dress anymore. There was a real danger of splitting a seam if she tried any harder to loosen the collar.

Susan snorted, relaxing, "You look like one."

Once even Susan found she could not pretend to adjust her clothes anymore, the pair of them headed down into the dungeons, where Slughorn's office was. Abraxas usually met her right outside her common room, but due to Susan's attendance and her general disdain for him lately, he had been encouraged to just meet her there. Alphard had also offered to accompany them, unbeknownst to Merissa only after talking with Abraxas about how she had denied his own invitation. Alphard had been turned down too, so the pair of girls were escorted only by each other.

Susan took notice of Abraxas' absence, asking Merissa with her usual lack of subtly. Merissa shrugged off the comment, saying it was silly for him to come all the way to their tower when he was already on the correct floor. Susan agreed, finding this response to be telling. None of her friends knew what had happened to her, but Susan did have several ideas about Abraxas.

When they arrived, the rest of the guests were already there, as they were all Slytherins and their trip was much shorter. Abraxas had sat directly to the right of Slughorn and the two seats next to him were left vacant. Apparently, he was still under social quarantine.

Merissa and Susan took their seats, not having much choice in the matter. Susan began pulling at the dress' conservative neckline again once they were seated, so Merissa pulled her arm down under the table to hold in reassuringly as they had when they were young. Susan gave her a grateful half smile, just as Slughorn turned from his conversation to greet them

"Good evening. Ah, our newest member! Welcome Miss Nigellus. For those of you who don't know, Nigellus here is a force to be reckoned with on the quidditch pitch."

Merissa beamed at her friend, who also looked pleased, not expecting such immediate praise, "Of course you know, right Nott!" Slughorn laughed, although Andrew began spearing his green beans aggressively and glaring at Susan instead of joking along.

"I notice we are slightly outnumbered," Susan smiled at the professor, gesturing to herself and Merissa. Slughorn seemed slightly flustered by this comment. Other than the pair, the group was composed of entirely Slytherin males. Alphard and Avery were across from them, with Rosier beside. Lestrange and Travers had chosen seats far down, seeming to predict where Merissa would sit. Riddle was on the other end of the table, watching them carefully.

"Of course, I originally had Miss Hornby on my list," Slughorn glibbed, "But she proved . . . less than significant. And anyways, she's currently in the hospital wing," this caused Merissa to smile openly. Alphard's eyes flickered up to meet hers, shaking with silent laughter

"Don't think I didn't recognize your work either, Miss Thorpe," Slughorn warned her noticing the exchange. He often did, though he thought she was harmless enough, and more importantly, was honing her skills. Hornby was an acceptable causality if there needed to be one.

"I had no idea she would be unable to set her kneecaps back on forwards professor," Merissa said, smiling sweetly, "I'm sure neither did she, or she surely would have held her tongue in front of me."

Alphard started to choke on his pumpkin juice at this comment, and Merissa could have sworn even Riddle's suspiciously timed cough was to hide a laugh. She gave him a lofty smile while Slughorn clapped Alphard on the back. Tom sneered back at her, though as soon as Slughorn looked back up, his face turned politely indifferent in less than an instant.

There was more to the story though. Olive had been practicing a tripping jinx on passerby's and had hit James with one of them. She had no chance to hold her tongue, as Merissa hexed her before she could so much as scoff at her.

Her portly professor leaned back into his plush chair after Alphard's breathing returned to normal, seemingly pleased at her cheek, "Mr. Black, tell me, how is your Uncle Marjus?"

"Well sir," Alphard gasped, still clutching his throat gingerly "Just over the summer he brought back the most interesting woman from his studies in India. I guess some part of it must have involved getting real intimate with the locals . . ."

Merissa hid her smile by scanning the rest of the club. Most of them were looking bored, including Riddle who was using the wrong fork again. He must be a half blood she realized, watching him pick up his knife to cut his meat with his left hand. She had never considered this before, because he had always acted like he was so much better than everyone. She had assumed he actually had a backing for it. Her mind swam with possibilities of how she might lord this over him.

Abraxas coughed loudly next to her and she realized she was gripping her steak knife and staring at Riddle as if she was considering lobbing it at him. She put it down and flexed her fingers, which were burning hot. Even she recognized her magic was growing faster than she was learning to control it.

"And Malfoy!" Slughorn seemed to have thought the cough was for attention, "I hear that after your summer internship in the minister's office that you have been offered a permanent position for when you graduate. Your parents must be so proud!"

Merissa was unsure if he was talking about Abraxas' parents or her own, but they were both elated, so she guessed he had not found it necessary to make the distinction. Both pairs of adults had sent him lengthy letter of congratulations, though no one was more excited than Abraxas himself.

"Yes sir. I am planning on keeping my options open however," Abraxas said delicately.

Merissa looked up at him in wild confusion. From five years old, Abraxas' dream was to be minister. She couldn't imagine him turning that position down for anything less than his life. Not to mention, just two days ago, when he had received his letter, she had heard his cry of delight from her table. The Ministry was not simply a path he had chosen, it was the only path he had ever seen.

"Ah," said Slughorn, clearly also taken aback, deciding to move on, "Lestrange I hear that. . ." but Merissa had stopped listening.

She squeezed his hand under the table, but he pulled both his arms above it. She stared at him and shook her head. She felt like she didn't know the first thing about him anymore.

When the dinner finally ended, he walked her to her common room, Susan having been detained by Slughorn who insisted on telling her about his past student who was now the star Chaser of the Chudely Cannons. Abraxas was acting incredibly peculiar, even for his standards, and had nothing to say as they walked.

"What's going on Ab?" she asked softly, using her childhood name for him, stopping him at the top of the stairs. He looked away from her, so she grasped his hands in her own and stared at him earnestly, "I'm really concerned. . . even if you've been a real prat lately. What could be more important than that position?"

"I want to keep my options open Merissa," he said again, still looking straight past her, "You never know what else could come up."

"That's bullshit," she argued, making him glower at her, "You save every ticket from when we go to the theater in a box, saying someday they'll want to display them in an exhibit for the great Minister Malfoy. You were just lecturing me last month about how you wanted me to start learning more languages from my mother because foreign diplomacy is key for any aspiring Head of Department."

"I have to give up certain childish habits and dreams as I become an adult," he stated harshly, "I suggest you do the same."

Without another word, he swept away, leaving her to walk the last flight of stairs alone.

She shook her head and began to walk again until she reached the entrance to the common room. Abby and Mary were already asleep when she came into the dormitory, so she was sure to creep around as she changed into a rich satin nightgown that her mother had gotten for her last Christmas. She felt she needed the extra comfort of the fabric tonight.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Merissa thought she looked rather like a ghost, the dress just brushing the floor as she walked. The moonlight couldn't contrast from the ivory of the gown and her skin, both glowing dimly.

"Merlin Re, you scared me," Susan exclaimed in a loud whisper, returning from the party at last. Slughorn had put her in contact with the scout for the Canons, which she had been eager to tell Merissa about, but the thought was pushed away at once upon seeing her friends skeletal figure.

"I'm sorry," Merissa spoke softly, "I was just going to bed."

Susan looked at her for a long moment. Merissa, though never tan had lost all color in her cheeks over the last week, probably because she was so jumpy she wasn't eating well. Under her eyes, dark shadows from her late nights in the library or practicing dueling were forming. This far into the school year she usually looked better than when she arrived. This year she looked far worse.

"You're an awful liar," Susan sighed, taking Merissa's hands in her own and guiding her back so they were both sitting on her bed.

Merissa sank into the mattress, grateful for the warmth of Susan's arm around her. She hadn't allowed herself to miss anyone lately, so she hadn't realized how far away she had been from the girl whose bed was a few feet from her own.

"I'll work on that," she promised, meaning it more than Susan knew.

"Codswallop," Susan chided light heartedly, "It's one of your best characteristics."

She laid down on her side, pulling Merissa along with so she could rest her chin on top of her head, her arms wrapped around her shoulders.

"You don't have to pretend with me," Susan whispered gently as Merissa buried her chin under her warm arms.

They hadn't slept like this since they were children. When they were seven it was their passion to build forts in Susan's tremendous canopy bed by floating blankets and cushions above them and curling up like this. It made the place feel a little smaller, like it was made for their tiny bodies instead of a robust king.

Merissa closed her eyes and made no effort to reply. The silence was the first in a while that had no implications. It was just the stillness of night and the peace of emptiness. The rhythmic sound of breathing from her other two friends was a soft lullaby, making her eyelids droop. She felt silly now that she had been so upset about Abraxas. Although he had been there longer, Susan was there more.

"Things I took for constants are changing, and I'm scared of what might slip through my fingers," Merissa said, her voice finally breaking the quiet, "I am afraid there are some things I will never get back."

"I am sure that many things are changing that you never expected to," Susan murmured, "But making yourself miserable over change when you've never been pleased with how things are doesn't make any sense."

"Susan?" Merissa asked, squinting at the shadows on the lake that large clouds were forming.

"Merissa?"

"Where'd you get so wise?"

"Probably spending too much time around Edward Thomas," Susan replied, smirking to herself.

Merissa frowned in surprise before turning to peek at her expression in the dark. She giggled once she realized Susan had been joking and had not gone mad. They were silent after this and both fell asleep soon after.

/_\

October 26th, 1942

When Merissa awoke, the sun was shining brightly through the windows. They had evidently forgotten to close the drapes last night. Susan was sound asleep, facing away from her, so Merissa moved carefully from the bed, so she wouldn't jostle her. Her joints cracked in protest as she stood up to move to her own bed. As comforting as it had been, they were far too large to share a bed anymore.

Writing in her journal sounded tempting as she hadn't had a chance too lately, but the light outside was telling her it was too late for any distractions. After all, she started classes earlier than most of her classmates now with her addition research class.

After hastily getting dressed, Merissa found James perched in his usual chair by the fire, waiting for her. He had clearly spoken to the house elves, because there was a breakfast tray with a mountain of blackened toast waiting for her. Another tray sat on his lap, though it was filled with an assortment of oatmeal and fruit instead.

"Bless you," she said, taking a piece, and scooping a generous serving of her usual jam onto it. She continued, slightly muffled by the large bite she had just taken, "If you were worried about me being late, let those concerns be quieted," she announced proudly, although she had needed to check her watch as she came down before saying this.

She began stacking several pieces just over her hand, levitating them to avoid getting any stickiness on her fingers. He watched her calmly, being one of the only ones who had never asked any questions about her peculiar magical talents.

"I knew you'd be on time," he shrugged, a faint smile on his face, "You've been taking your classes much more seriously this year. An extra one makes no difference. Especially one based on independent research. You already do this on your own."

"I thought it might make a difference," Merissa admitted as they headed out of the common room, her hand supporting the toast as it hovered alongside them. She plucked another piece down and began to nibble on it with less ferocity than the first slice, "I feel over extended."

"A cat in gloves catches no mice," he nodded as they began descending the stairs.

"Er- yes," Merissa agreed, opting to stare at her feet as they fell hastily on the marble steps to avoid giving him a frown. James seemed to run at a different wavelength as his peers, but Merissa attributed it to his intelligence rather than peculiarity.

As they passed through the massive carved doors of the castle, the pair were blinded by the bright day. Not only was it sunny, but only a light breeze blew through, making it warm. Merissa couldn't imagine a better day to be outside and bounded forward eagerly towards to lake.

"Where are you going?" he inquired still standing on the steps up to the castle, his eyes still adjusting, being more delicate than hers.

"Didn't you say the class met at the lake last year?" she said, spinning around. A central reason she had wanted to take this class was the allure of having a class in such a beautiful place.

"Yes, that's where it happened last year," he acknowledged, "It changes every year so that the topics are fresh. They don't want a project on the merpeople every year."

She frowned, "Well that's a shame. I planned to freshen up my Mermish. Where is it then?"

"Class will meet on the edge of the Dark Forest," he told her, leading the way to the looming clump of trees, "We're lucky to still have an outdoor location. They considered holding it in the dungeons after Belbey set off that swarm of wild Withering Wasps last spring."

The crease that had formed between her eyebrows looking at the forest melted away at this and she grinned, "What would we have to study in the dungeons? The breeding rituals of snakes? Put on overpriced cologne, insult intended mate, repeat as needed. Also, they're worried about safety, so they move us to the Dark Forest? Brilliant."

James chuckled but didn't respond. They were close to the tree line now and could see a few other students forming discombobulated blob. Their professor had not made an appearance yet.

As they drew nearer, Merissa began to recognize some faces. The farthest from the group was a Ravenclaw boy and Slytherin girl, both sixth year, who had their heads close, speaking quickly to each other. Merissa had seen them together often and had guessed they were dating. They were not touching each other but seemed to be sharing an intimate connection of ideas. Laughing with a red-headed boy who couldn't possibly be younger than 17, was the radiant Head Girl, McGonagall. A lanky, tan boy leaned against a boulder, the only one by himself in the group. He fiddled with his yellow and black striped tie, looking unsure of himself. He looked like he hadn't quite grown into his limbs as he shifted. Merissa wondered if he had leaned against the rock more to stabilize himself than to rest.

His eyes widened as she joined the group but looked away when she smiled at him. Her face fell, and she wondered what he might have heard about her. Her reputation preceded her these days, and it was unclear who caught which version.

"Hi," she greeted brightly, coming over to him without a break in her stride.

He looked up nervously and gave her a weak smile, "Hi."

"I'm Merissa Thorpe," she said, extending her hand, "This is my friend James Patil. We're both fifth years."

"I'm Edmund . . .Young," he told her, shaking her hand as briefly as if it was a Venomous Tentacula vine, "Seventh year. Hufflepuff."

"I can see that," she said amiably, though his clear unease in her presence stung.

She reminded herself that she knew there would be consequences for everything she had done in the past two months. She was someone everyone thought they knew, so her disapproving their notions made her strange, and dangerous. There was nothing more threatening that a foreigner, her father said.

He said nothing but stared at the ground. She looked to James, but he simply shrugged his shoulders. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, making a quiet clicking sound with her tongue that only made the silence more deafening.

"Hello Merissa," a voice said from behind her. Merissa turned to see that her savior was McGonagall, the brunette Gryffindor. She looked especially pretty to Merissa as she shook her still awkwardly stretched out arm, turning her away from the silent Hufflepuff.

"I'm Minerva and this is Alexander Prince. We're both seventh years, but he's a Hufflepuff, as you can probably tell."

"I can," Merissa grinned, shaking both of their hands. They both had firm grips that she rather liked.

"It's Alex," the boy told her seriously, in a gruffer voice than she had expected, "No one but my mother calls me Alexander."

"It will be Prince in this class, Prince," Merrythought said, making them all turn in surprise. She had just emerged from the Dark Forest, not at all the direction they had expected, "Gather round then," she urged when no one moved closer.

Once they had made a (slightly distanced) huddle around her, the aging professor began speaking again, "Welcome to the first meeting of research," she said, "Only one new student this year, although I'm proud to say it is another from my house. Welcome Miss Thorpe."

"Thank you, professor," Merissa murmured, glancing up. Being in such a small group with not only the head of her house but also the teacher of her worst subject, defense against the dark arts made her slightly meek.

Merrythought nodded at her, "This year, we're obviously off to a late start due to location issues. However, due to passionate advocacy from both myself and Professor Dumbledore, we have reached an agreement with the school board to have class hosted here."

The large red headed boy who had introduced himself as Alex clapped loudly, looking thrilled to move to a more interesting location.

"Oh, hush Prince," Merrythought chided, though her sternness did not go up to her eyes, "There have been parameters put in place of course. I don't want to see anyone even a toe more than 100 meters into the trees. This location was chosen mostly so you could have access to bow truckles or flobberworms if you want them. You will all will need to order whistles as soon as possible if you want to go into the forest. We will charm them to connect with mine so I can hear you if you get hurt and so I can make sure you really do stay within the boundaries."

"Stop grinning Alex, she'll see," Minerva hissed out of the corner of her mouth, making Merissa have to hide her own smile. Being allowed into the forest at all opened so many possibilities. She couldn't wait to tell Alphard.

"You will just be working elsewhere today however," Merrythought said determinedly, "Find anywhere you like and start coming up with ideas. Off you go!"

"She's brilliant," Minerva said fondly, as the group marched away into the grass to look for fairies or nifflers. Anything they could find would be a good start, "So much fun, but you'd never know it."

It was just Minerva, Alex, Merissa, and James now, as the three others had gone off in different directions. The four had spread out in a line, as if they were a search party for a lost child. Instead, they hunted for anything magical.

"Merrythought is a genius," Alex agreed enthusiastically, "She says she's slowing down, but still the best damn dueling teacher Hogwarts has ever seen. You know she taught Dumbledore? Bound to produce another prodigy before she's done I'd say - hey look what I found!" he exclaimed, holding up a small purple figure.

The other three clustered around, examining the squirming fairy held between his massive forefinger and thumb. It was making loud squeaks of protest, batting its opaque wings vigorously, but with no avail. It was no longer than Merissa's pinky finger and had a rounded face, trademark signs that it was only a few months old. It looked like it was considering digging a venomous fang into Alex's finger when Merissa bent down.

"Hey hey," Merissa said lightly, holding out a small blossom as a peace offer for it, "We don't want to hurt you. May we draw you? You're such a pretty thing."

Alex gaped at her and even Minerva looked surprised by the strange noises coming from the small Ravenclaw's mouth, but the fairy was squeaking a reply now, so she was too busy listening to explain.

"I understand. We don't want to hold up your day either. How about I conjure you up some of those after we're done and it'll make up for the time you're here?"

The fairy looked shiftily between the witches and wizards as Alex asked James, "How can she understand them?"

"They speak the same language as house elves once did," Merissa explained, "I was raised by a house elf who still spoke it. It was the second language I learned."

"I had heard your mother is quite a famous linguist," McGonagall said politely, nudging Alex to close his mouth, "But as your brother doesn't speak a word of anything but English, I hadn't considered she might have taught you."

"I know a fair amount, not nearly as many as my mother," Merissa said humbly, "You can let her go Alex. She's not going anywhere."

They spent the rest of the class period sketching the creature in their notebooks. At the end, Merissa took a handful of grass in her hand and after murmuring a spell, turned it into a vibrant lock of red hair. She offered it to the fairy, who took it greedily and buzzed away.

"She wanted some pretty hair for her nest," she explained as her classmates watched the figure disappear, "Only reason she let Alex catch her."

When the time came for them to head off to Herbology, Merissa found James and herself walking in front of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin couple, who still has their heads together and were hissing at a much louder volume. Merissa tried to ignore when she was sure she heard her own name, focusing on the green house instead. She was no used to the whispers about herself yet, but she had learned not to react to them. It only spurred more rumors. Once inside the muggy sanctuary, she was greeted by Susan and Abby and allowed the discomfort to slip from her mind for the next class period and throughout lunch.

It was an unseasonably warm Monday in late October, so of course, most people were cheerful, but Merissa just found it significantly more excruciating to be forced into the cool depths of the dungeon after lunch when the sun was shining, just a few short hours after basking in it.

"If Hornby so much as breaths anything else about her hair not being able to handle the humidity from the steam, I will crush her head with my mortar and pestle," Susan sulked as she strode down the corridor.

"At least she talks to you!" Abby pipped, jogging slightly to keep up with her long stride, "Avery only grunts. It's like being with an egg."

"I bet you wouldn't mind if it was Thomas doing the grunting," Merissa grinned, winking at James over Abby's shoulder. There was something about Abby's interest in Thomas that had always amused him.

Abby opened her mouth to answer indignantly, but she quickly snapped it shut when Riddle walked by. There was an awkward beat of silence where all of Merissa's friends looked at her hardened expression, wondering if she was about to hex him.

James was the only who finally said, "I guess we can't really complain to Re. None of our partners suck the life out of the room."

"It doesn't matter," Merissa seethed, her tone making it clear that it did indeed matter, "It's not like any of them have been giving me the time of day lately anyways."

She glared at the back of Abraxas' carefully styled head. He had completely avoided her since Slughorn's gathering and she had a feeling she knew why.

Wasting no time, she slammed her potions book down on the desk she shared with Tom, making him look up, feigning surprise. As if he didn't expect her to be furious.

"Is something the matter Miss Thorpe?"

"Me?" she asked rhetorically, almost shattering her essence of newt on the table, "Never," and then in a quiet hiss, "I know it was you."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he said. Then, lowering his voice, "But then, neither do you."

She gave him a sneer that rivaled her mother's finest before impatiently beginning to add ingredients to the cauldron. Usually, the soft steam and hissing of cauldrons would have been calming to her. Today the air was suffocating, and she couldn't think of a place she wouldn't rather be. He allowed her to work for several minutes before stopping her arm before it could drop any of the neetley leaves she was holding into the mixture.

"Even you would have trouble remedying Stinging Fern leaves in this," he said in light voice that didn't match his eyes.

She looked down at the leaves and realized he was right. She went to put them down, but his grip on her arm didn't budge. She suspected he would have made some kind of point, if Professor Slughorn hadn't heard his correction and turned to the pair.

"Merissa, I'm surprised! Those are some very rare leaves you have there. I don't remember asking for those on the supplies list. Why even I don't have them in my stores."

Tom dropped her arm, trying to look innocent while Merissa began to rub the spot. After giving him a nasty look, she replied, "They aren't sir. I just bought them for myself. They're for a project I'm working on. Have I told you I started taking a research class? It's so fascinating."

She didn't look at her partner, but she could tell out of the corner of her eyes that he was fuming. Slughorn's head looked in danger of popping from his neck as he nodded it furiously in approval.

"Quite impressive! I really must schedule a meeting with you give you some people to write to about that. I have several contacts at Slevins' Apothecary and they are always looking for new inventors, generally not so young . . . though you can never start too early! If you can fit it into your busy schedule of course," he gave her a heavy wink.

"I would be delighted to, sir," she said as her partner smashed slugs into a paste with unnecessary force.

"Very good. Be careful with those Tom! You still need their digestive systems somewhat intact or your potion will be too acidic," Slughorn chided before bouncing away towards the pillar of poisonous-looking green steam coming from Abraxas and Alphard's cauldron, undoubtedly to correct their mistake before Abby and Phillip Avery choked to death from their desk behind them.

Tom scraped the pulverized slugs into the cauldron sneering - and Merissa was sure it wasn't because of the smell.

/_\

Later that day, Merissa was on the edge of the black lake, enjoying the weather with Abby, Susan, James, and Alphard, who had spent increasing time with them as Merissa became more and more of a pariah. He was the only one who seemed to approve of her increasing infamousy.

"If no one talks about you, you know you're doing something wrong," he had assured her, patting her back while steering her away from a Slytherin sixth year who was trying to interrogate her on Abraxas' availability just yesterday. Evidently, other people had noticed their estrangement.

Today, Merissa and Susan had removed their shoes and stockings and were dipping their toes into the cool water, while Alphard, being much braver, was in trunks, wading to his waist. Abby and James were perched higher up on the grass, discussing class work.

"You guys are so stale," Alphard lamented, splashing water at Susan and Merissa's legs, "Where is your sense of adventure?"

"There is a squid in there Alphard," Susan snorted, brushing a few drops off her skirt, "A giant one, with long tentacles that could pull you in and eat you. Did you know?"

"It's friendly!" Alphard insisted for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Merissa exchanged an amused look with Susan' neither of them had been too convinced by this, "I've seen some Gryffindors play with it before."

"You're acting mighty like a Gryffindor right now too," Merissa teased as Susan kicked a few drops in his direction.

"Good," Alphard tipped his chin up defiantly, mocking the way Merissa often did.

Merissa scoffed, but Susan couldn't hold back a laugh, so Merissa nudged her playfully and moved up the bank, ignoring both of their increased sniggering, opting rather to listen to what James was saying.

"I've heard he's already moved his forces across all of America," he was telling Abby, looking down at the paper between them thoughtfully. The front page was dedicated to tracking Grindelwald's movements, "I wouldn't be surprised if he came to this continent soon. Not here at first - he's always been afraid of Professor Dumbledore, I've heard. But sooner or later, it will be our issue to deal with."

"I just don't understand why no one is stopping him while his forces are still manageable," Abby complained, frowning down at the grass, as if it too was being irresponsible, "They must realize it will eventually be our problem."

"That's what the muggles here are saying about the Americans, regarding their war," Merissa said, while James nodded, "Both sides are guilty of it. People are scared of Grindelwald, because he's a new species of evil. No one wants to deal with trouble until it's on their doorstep.."

"Troubles here!" a voice from behind them cried, as arms pushed Merissa's back firmly, launching her forward into the icy water.

Merissa came up sputtering and pushing her dark hair from her face. When she could finally see through the curtain it had formed, she found Alphard and Susan doubling over with laughter on the bank. She tried to glare at them, which only made them howl louder, so she finally gave in and laughed with them. She couldn't even really complain about the water, as it felt refreshing on her skin as the sun shone down.

"You are so dead," she laughed, splashing water up at them with her hands, but hardly sprinkling them given the distance. She had just started focusing energy on her palms to propel a wave forward when her focus was interrupted by the appearance of a shock of white blonde hair, bobbing over to the banks.

Before Merissa could hurry out of the water and head for shelter, Abraxas spotted her.

"Merissa what on earth are you doing in there," he demanded stalking over and crossing his arms, looking like he hadn't gotten enough sleep for this. He carefully stepped onto the bank, not wanting to get his shoes dirty, but offering her his hand. She decided against arguing and took it, making him sneer at the sliminess the lake water had left.

Once she was back onto the bank she hardly had time to exchange a bemused look with Susan before he led her away from her friends, all of whom has tensed upon his arrival. Once they were a fair distance away, he dropped her hand, wiping his own on the inside of his robes.

"We need to discuss something," he began seriously, making Merissa to raise an eyebrow. If this were a normal relationship, she may have thought he was about to end it, but they were betrothed and that was hardly an option. He clarified before she could ask, "I won't be able to make it to France this winter."

Merissa blinked. She wasn't sure what she expected, but this was not it, "While that doesn't exactly break my heart, why not? You love France. You always want us to try to tan there, even though neither of us can."

She almost could have smiled at the memory but she forced the urge down. She didn't feel like he deserved to be graced by such a thing.

"I have more important things than sunburns to deal with this year," he said, straightening out his robes in a businesslike fashion.

"Oh Merlin, does Riddle need someone so shine his shoes over break?" she folded her arms in front of her chest, "This hazing is getting really ridiculous. First your ministry job offer and now vacations?"

"I never said it had anything to do with Riddle -" he started, but Merissa cut him off.

"You wouldn't skip for France for anyone else. Or jeopardize your future," she ranted, "You're supposed to be the person who care about me most, but you find out your friends tried to treat me like a call girl and you respond by ignoring me like a waif for days! I know damn well you were raised to know better than that, so I can only assume it's because of Riddle? You're practically religiously bound to him. I mean we're supposed to get married someday Abraxas and all I can imagine in that future is that we're going to have to give Riddle our first-born child or something!"

"Are you done?" Abraxas asked coolly.

Merissa panted slightly, but snapped, "No."

He waited, lip turned up, but she couldn't think of anything else to try to make him understand the extent of her anger, so she simply raised her chin at him. He recognized the gesture as it was so often used when he was around. She had nothing then.

"You can continue on your vacation of course," he said finally, "My mother would love to have you along."

"It's my family's house, obviously I can go without you. But how gracious of you to allow me to."

"As your future husband, there are many things I could deny you, yet am indeed gracious enough to allow. I do not even question Black's intentions with you when he so obviously-"

"How dare you - you don't question it because you don't care!" burst Merissa, breaking his expressionless monologue.

Her stared at her with eyes like cold metal for a moment before saying softly, "That is true. I don't care what you do Thorpe. Not anymore."

She staggered back as if he had slapped her again. Though she had never loved Abraxas, he was a constant in her life, and a bearable one at that, though sometimes overbearing. Abraxas always cared - it was one of his most annoying qualities in her opinion. He cared what everyone wore, how they spoke, if they knew to use a bone spoon for caviar. No one monitored her, hindered her, or helped her as much as he did.

He continued as is he had not seen her reaction, "However your actions do reflect on me. So, all I ask is that you have more discretion."

Her eyes stung at the implication. She had never touched anyone else, and even he never wanted to do much touching.

"I-I would never-" she began unsteadily.

"I don't care Thorpe," Malfoy repeated. She shut her mouth into an angry line.

"I see," she said, voice steady now, "I should have realized that sooner."

He looked away from her, over her head, "I have to go," he said abruptly.

She didn't try to stop him as he left. She turned too, to see he was going over to Riddle and his posse. They had situated themselves around their leader, who was leaning against a tree not far from where her friends were ogling at her. She made her way down to them with as much dignity as she could muster, being forced to walk by her boyfriend again and given the fact that she was still sopping wet. Neither glanced at the other.

"What happened Re?" Alphard asked softly when she had thrown herself down onto the grass next to him.

"Nothing I shouldn't have expected," she said savagely, starting to rake her fingers through her sodden hair. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, she was becoming less stoic and more angry.

"Abraxas can let his pride get in the way sometimes, but he really does care about you Mer..." Abby trailed off when she saw James' expression.

"Abraxas cares about Abraxas," Merissa stated factually, before adding furiously, "And that prat Riddle."

"They are both prats," Alphard agreed, seeming to gauge her expression, "It's the way it they've always been."

"Well I'm tired of it," she retorted, coming to her feet abruptly and pulling out her wand.

"That is absolutely not what I meant Merissa. Riddle is bad news," Alphard said sternly, trying to take her arm, but she smacked him away.

"I am so sick," she growled, "Of everyone holding me back."

Alphard was taken aback enough to let her stomp away up the grassy knoll. Flicking her wet hair back, she drew her wand.

/_\

Tom looked up at the approaching figure, it having caught his eye from behind Lestrange's bulky form. Merissa Thorpe was soaking wet, hair throwing off droplets as she stormed over to him. She was missing her shoes and stockings as well, but perhaps the most peculiar thing about her was how furious she appeared. She looked like a warrior, emerging from the lake to take a watery vengeance.

"What ever is she doing Malfoy?" asked Travers, also spotting her. He tried to sound amused but his eyes betrayed his fear.

Malfoy simply shook his head, looking bewildered. He stepped forward as she approached, "What is wrong Merissa?"

"I'm no here for you," she snarled, brushing him aside, a considerable feat given their difference in size, "You!" she cried, brandishing her wand at Riddle.

He tried to look composed, but the fury in her eyes had concerned him enough to draw his wand as well. He extended it, attempting to keep her back, if not only by the physical wood of it. They both stared at each other for a moment before Malfoy muttered behind her, "Back down Thorpe, this is absolute madness."

"This is necessary!" she hissed, her hand unwavering, tip fixed on Tom's chest. His eyes were stuck on her wand as if he couldn't quite understand what she was doing. No one had challenged him to a duel in years.

"If this is about me not letting you explode your cauldron in potions Thorpe, a thank you next time would suffice," Tom drawled, however, his eyes stayed fixed at the tip of her wand.

"It's a tad bigger than that at this point Riddle," she spat. They stared at each other a moment longer before he shouted, "Impedimenta!"

She didn't need to open her mouth to deflect his hex, she simply threw it back with a flick of her wand. He was quick to dodge the bolt of white light while she yelled, " _Expelliarmus_!" which he threw up a silent shield charm for.

" _Incarcerous_!"

" _Locomotor Mortis_!"

" _Serpensortia_!"

" _Petrificus Totalus_!"

" _Expelliarmus_!"

Riddle caught her wand triumphantly, causing her to laugh. She silently flicked her wrist at him, and a jet of red light almost hit him, knocking Lestrange ten feet into the air before he slammed to the ground, with a concerning thump. Out cold.

Tom's dark eyes widened at her animalistic grin, pouring her concentration into her hands again. Her aim was off, even without a wand, but she knew she could do it now. Tom had thrown up another shield charm hastily, but she knew from practice with Alphard how useless it would be.

"Enough!" Malfoy, screamed, pushing past Avery, who looked like he might have been stunned himself if he had not been standing, his mouth agape and eyes glassy.

" _Stupefy_!" Abraxas cried, wand pointed right at Merissa.

There was a flash of light and then everything went black to her.


	8. Birth of the Dark Mark

October 27th, 1942

Merissa was riding on the back of a huge white hippogriff, over Hogwarts. It's wide back made for a comfortable seat, which was good, because she was unable to steer the creature. She held into its neck firmly as it sailed in and out of the towers. Her hair was whipped back, exposing her neck to the cold wind. Ducking behind its thick feather neck would have shielded her from the wind, but the view was worth the chill. From up here she could see every minaret and window glowing warmly. She whooped as it soared over Ravenclaw tower and she waved in case her friends were watching. She wished they could join her. It would be so much more fun up here with someone else.

The hippogriff suddenly dived deeply, bringing them just over the dark depths of the black lake. Merissa leaned over on its back, keeping an arm around its neck to try to skim her other hand over the water but the hippogriff huffed at her and kept her upright with an inpatient jostle. She frowned; that was no fair. She just wanted to touch it, she wouldn't fall. She tried to reach down again, hoping it wouldn't notice. But now the beast was landing on a small wooded island she had never seen before and there was not more water beneath her.

She dismounted the creature, looking around in interest. There were clusters of trees all around, though the beast had chosen a small clearing to land. So much could lay just beyond the tree line. They cast dark shadows in the moonlight, like spindly figures. She stepped towards them, her curiosity getting the best of her. To her horror, as soon as she stepped away, the hippogriff spread its wings again, and rose away from her.

"Hey!" she yelled, "Where are you going? I have no idea where I am! Take me back to the castle!"

The animal did not hear her, or it did not care, because it continued to flap away. The rustle of its feathers was somehow deafening. She cried out in again in anger, but the flapping just got louder as the snowy hippogriff flew further away. _Louder?_ she wondered groggily. And suddenly, she was no longer listening to wings, but hushed voices.

She tried to crack her eyes open, finding it was far too bright and her eye were far too raw for this yet. It was very white, wherever she was, she decided, just like that unreliable bloody hippogriff.

"Again professor, we didn't see who sent the first jinx. It could have been either of them," a soft voice murmured.

Though Merissa recognized the tones were hardly above a whisper, her ears were registering everything as nothing short of magnified shouts. Nothing sounded more welcoming than pressing the pillow around her ears to shut out the noise but her arms felt as if they were made of lead and not even the smallest twitch of her hand could be elicited.

"But it was definitely Malfoy who stunned her, which was why it was so extreme . . . he was so close you see-" supplemented another voice to her left, before they were cut off.

Again, shouting. Merissa found the pain motivating enough to turn her head ever so slightly into the pillow which was a vast improvement. And apparently noticed by someone else.

"SHHH! Is she waking up?" a voice said directly to her right, "Re can you hear us?"

"Unfortunately," Merissa groaned, her head already feeling split, "Why are you yelling?" She tried to open her eyes again and got a little closer this time before she had to shut them tight. All the figures were just less blinding blobs, any detail being lost to her bleary vision.

"There we go, no further brain damage than she already had then," Susan's voice floated from her left side again, "Sass is intact."

Someone was holding Merissa's right hand. She cracked her eyes open again to try to see who it was but all she could make out was dark hair and broad shoulders, "What happened to my eyes?" she complained.

"You hit your head rather hard on a rock when you fell after Mr. Malfoy allegedly stunned you Miss Thorpe," a voice from beyond the end of her bed explained calmly, "Do you feel well enough to recall what happened?"

Merissa was finally able to open her eyes enough to see that the person talking to her had red hair and was wearing bright magenta robes that clashed horribly yet was far too tall to be Abby. And they had called her 'Miss Thorpe'. It was Professor Dumbledore then, she reasoned.

"No, but I will anyways," she said, addressing her Transfiguration teacher with her eyes closed and head reclined. The grip on her right hand tightened, "I had a disagreement with Riddle. He tried to hex me first, but it really shouldn't matter. I was about to hex him."

Merissa did not care at this point if she got in trouble for dueling. Even if she had to serve detentions for the rest of the year, it had been worth it. She would have won if it hadn't been for Malfoy's interference and she knew that. She knew that he knew it.

"Hmm," Professor Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. Even with from this position she could tell he was giving her one of his piercing stares, unconvinced of Riddle's innocence. He had always had an inexplicable suspicion of the boy.

"Mer was just defending herself . . . proactively," defended the voice from her right, "He's been trying to intimidate her all year."

Merissa realized this must be Alphard and squeezed his hand, hoping he would understand she wanted him to shut up. She apparently didn't have a strong enough grip at the moment, because he simply began rubbing her hand with his thumb in response to her motion. She tore her hand away and used it to prop herself up on her elbows and open her eyes at last, hoping she could lie more convincingly from this position. Alphard quickly stuffed another two pillows from her bedside under her, so she didn't have to depend on her own strength alone.

"No," she denied before the professor could ask, "That's not true. I was just jealous. My boyfriend has been spending more time with Mr. Riddle lately. It just made me vindictive. That's all."

Alphard was staring incredulously at her. Abby, who was standing next to Dumbledore, probably who he had been talking to, allowed her eyebrows to slam together as she stared at her friend as if she had grown a fifth limb. Dumbledore looked politely disbelieving. Only Susan kept her composure.

"It's true," Merissa said, drawing herself up further in bed. Alphard was quick to supply three more pillows.

Her professor's light blue eyes twinkled knowingly, and Merissa grimaced internally as she recalled Susan words. She was a notrotiously awful liar.

"It is," Susan seconded without a moments hesitation, "You must have misunderstood, Al."

Merissa willed Alphard to be quiet with her stare, but he neglected to even glance at her and missed it entirely. As he opened his mouth, she considered grabbing his hand again to reclaim his attention, however anyone watching - nonetheless her vigilant professor - would notice if she was so outwardly peculiar. She settled to squeezing the pillow she was leaning against, the sharp tips of the feather she was crushing cutting against her palm as her face remained flat of any affect.

"No, I wasn't - I didn't!" Alphard snapped, looking to Abby for support. The red-head had cleared her expression and simply stared back at him calmly.

"Very well Miss Thorpe," Dumbledore sighed, "As I am not the head of your house I cannot tell you what your punishment will be for this. I will let Professor Merrythought know that you are awake and pass on your . . . take on yesterday's events."

He strode out, magenta robes sparkling on the ends as his shoes brushed against them. Merissa blinked again, as she allowed Alphard to prop her up further on several more pillows, fluffing them violently.

" _Yesterday's_ events?" asked Merissa, looking around at her friends as the doors closed after the professor.

"You hit your head pretty hard," Alphard repeated frostily, "Which could explain why you're acting like you want to get killed."

"I'm not," Merissa's chin jutted out, as if it hoped to injure him, "I just won."

"You- you what?" sputtered Alphard. The day had seemed to have stolen some of his usual eloquence. Susan finally allowed her face to move, raising a heavy eyebrow.

"I won," Merissa repeated, before they were all interrupted by Madame Charron bustling in, a moist hand towel in one hand and a burning bundle of sage in the other.

"Goodness do not crowd her like that!" Charron scolded, as her friends had come closer to her after Dumbledore had left.

As they backed up, Alphard scooting in his seat and the other two still standing, Charron waved the sage around erratically before setting it on Merissa's already crowded bedside table.

"There's been unclean spirits around," the nurse warned grimly, making Abby suppress giggles with the heel of her hand. Charron was a talented healer, though it was sometimes overshadowed by her abundance of superstitions.

She placed the cool towel on Merissa's forehead and began examining her face, turning it in her hands and muttering to herself. She removed the towel, seeming satisfied.

"Just as I expected," Madame Charron mused to herself, "I think I still have some. . . And Mr. Black I will be forced to remove you from the hospital wing if you don't eat something and go sleep soon!" she added sharply, "I do not want to be treating you too."

The healer bustled away to the neighboring bead where a bereft looking third year sat, green antlers having sprouted from his head.

Merissa looked over at Alphard in surprise. She now recognized he was wearing a pair of heavily creased robes, "You didn't-"

"Never mind," Alphard muttered, standing up, "It was nothing. I'm going to go to class now that I know you're fine."

"We should all go," Susan agreed, "I'm sure Mer has a lot to think about."

She began ushering to two other out, eventually having to physically pull Alphard away, as he was adding yet another pillow to Merissa's bed, although she was nearly drowning in them as it was.

"You've got a lot of admirers by the way," Susan added as she took the pillow from him, setting it in his now vacant chair and nodding to Merissa's bedside table, which was crowded with gifts.

When her friends had gone Merissa took the time to examine each gift carefully. From Abraxas she received a bouquet fifteen yellow roses. The note said My deepest regrets in his controlled, pristine writing. The parchment was thick in her hands, but she found it easy to rip in half despite its quality. _Regret that I didn't get hexed like I deserved by Riddle_ she thought coldly, vanishing the roses as well. The next bouquet was from Alphard and contained seven bright red roses mixed in with baby breath and enchanted tulips that shimmered like gems. Her smile faltered a little counting the number, before deciding there was no way Alphard ever took the time to learn what specific amounts of flowers meant.

She picked up one of the tulips only to have it burst into tiny bits of white light that fell around her bed, shimmering for a moment before they dissipated. She laughed and picked up another, finding that it instead turned into tiny birds that fluttered around, but disappeared before Madame Charron could see what they were.

Merissa sank back into bed, smiling slightly to avoid being accused of her crime. She would have to wait to see what the rest of them would do until later, when there were no witnesses. After about an hour spent removing the antlers from the third year, of which Merissa drifted in and out of sleep for, Charron disappeared for a while into her office and Merissa sat back up, deciding to discover the rest of her treasures.

James had apparently smuggled her some pumpkin pasties from last night's feast. He left no indication that they were from him, as it was his standard gesture when she was sick or stuck in the library studying. Abby had gotten her an oversized box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, as she always forgot how much she detested them. Merissa was surprised to see that her fellow prefect, Thomas had gotten her a box of chocolate frogs. She pulled one out and decapitated it with a swift bite. She was about to move onto a small silver wrapped package when the doors burst open and big white teeth greeted her.

"Hello Thorpe!" Thomas exclaimed, earning a murderous look from Charron who had popped her head back out of her office at the slam, "I heard you were up."

He moved to the side of her bed, taking the seat Alphard had apparently slept in and moving the pillow to his lap.

"Here I am," Merissa agreed. She forced herself to plaster a big smile on her face, a feat which took several mental reminders that Thomas of all people was not someone who deserved her wrath, even if he annoyed her, "Thank you for the frogs. It was kind of you to think of me."

He waved a hand, indicating it had been no problem, "I missed you for patrols though! You can't be slacking on your prefect duties."

"I was unconscious," Merissa reminded him, managing to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Yes, well you know how that goes," Edward continued, as if this were no excuse, "Is it true Malfoy put you in here? That's all anyone's talking about. Everyone always was under the impression it didn't get any more perfect than you too. Kind of regretting that now I'm sure," he rambled.

Merissa cleared her throat, stalling before saying anything. She hadn't considered what her story for the general peer would be. It would certainly be easier if people had a reason to expect them apart. And thrashing Abraxas was far too tempting now.

"Yes, it's true. He didn't want me to give Riddle what he had coming."

"You can't just be attacking fellow prefects though, Thorpe!" Edward's scolded, not waiting to absorb this information, "Imagine if you just attacked me during patrol, it would be absolute anarchy," Merissa held back that attacking him was sounding more and more tempting as he went on, "Anyways, I need to run to Transfiguration, but keep that in mind, eh? Is this yours?" he asked, brandishing the extra pillow.

"Oh no, I am fine actual-"

"Nonsense," he dismissed, putting the pillow on top of the overwhelming mound, making it higher than her head now, "My mother always says there's nothing a good goose feather won't fix."

"Emh - thank you, Thomas," she finally allowed. There was really no point with him. And he meant well, at the very least.

"Whatever I can do to speed up your healing," he said, nodding seriously, "I'll see you for patrols later!"

Merissa didn't mention she might not be out of the hospital at that time, deciding it would better to surprise him if that were true. She instead sank back into her mountain of pillows, head starting to pound again. The sage beside her was still burning, the air completely perfused with smoke now.

"Is your head hurting?" Charron asked brusquely, coming over immediately. Merissa wondered if she had predicted this because of similar injuries or because she saw Merissa's expression when she spoke to Thomas.

Merissa nodded, "Here we go then, drink that quickly," Charron ushered. Merissa glanced up suspiciously from the deep blue potion she was being offered, "Don't give me that look, it's just something for the pain, there we go, isn't that better?"

"Yes," Merissa admitted, sinking deeper back into her bed, "Thank you."

Charron started muttering something about people forgetting where their brains were, but Merissa quickly fell into a dreamless slumber.

When she awoke, she was acutely aware that she was not alone. She shot up in bed, gasping. The light was dim, and the air was still smoky, but her eyes must have been adjusted because she could see Tom Riddle in minute detail. His dark eyes were looking down at her scornfully, his wand pointed at her heart.

"Don't make a sound," he ordered, moving closer to her. He was at the foot of her bed now, hardly anything else visible from the dim light of his wand tip. She was sure Madame Charron was asleep now, and he must have been too if he was here.

She stared up at him. In this light she could make no differentiation between his dark irises and his pupils. They were soulless holes in his head that stared blankly at her. They had never struck her so much as the eyes of a killer.

She sat up slowly, looking at his wand. She knew her own was just on the bedside table, if she could just- but he was quickly blocking her as if he had read her mind. Maybe he had.

"We both know you hardly need a wand for magic though don't we," he hissed, "Quite an unusual trick - yet that's all it is isn't it? A fun parlor game, something else to make you shiny. But you're hardly anything of consequence are you Thorpe?"

"I don't know, Riddle. Do you want to find out?" she challenged, narrowing her eyes.

"You haven't opened my present," he dodged, picking up the silver package and waving it before her eyes, "How rude."

His eyes shone with bright excitement as she glared back up at him. He glanced down as the smoke began to rise between them from the still smoldering sage and swatted in annoyance at it, taking a step back. Maybe Charron wasn't so crazy she thought dryly. Or maybe smoke was just disgusting to everyone.

"I didn't know it was from you," she replied truthfully, "If I had I would have been more careful to check it for hexes. Or just chucked it."

She eyed her wand, as he was no longer blocking her path. She was better off without it, but the security it gave her was significant. He laughed humorlessly, still keeping quiet.

"If I was going to kill you I would do it in person Thorpe," he spoke softly, breaking her from her silently willing her wand to jump into her hands.

Merissa's heart stopped for a moment and then started pumping erratically. With the blackness surrounding him like a cloak and his face blurred by the smoke, it was easy to believe he was capable of such a thing. The ornate ring on his outstretched wand hand seemed to wink at her.

"I thought I was just a shiny thing of no consequence though," she countered, trying to hide her discomfort.

"I think so," he told her bluntly, "But Malfoy stopped you from truly dueling with me, which makes me think he at least believes otherwise. That could be due to being a lovesick fool."

"He doesn't love me," Merissa corrected, glad to catch him on a fault.

He stared at her a moment before laughing again. Though his voice was low, his laugh seemed to come from another person entirely. It was insincere, high, and cold.

"You are right I suppose. Interesting. That is not what I expected you to say."

"I'm full of surprises," Merissa agreed, tossing her chin out without even noticing her action.

He stared another beat before flinging her the package. She caught it deftly and silently applauded herself. She was sure he had meant for her to drop it.

"Open it then," he ordered, stepping away, his body disappearing as he extinguished his wand. His disembodied voice finished, "Since you're so brave."

He slunk out, silent as the night. The only sound that confirmed his exit was the soft click of the door as it closed. She turned her attention to the package. After a few moments of examination with the tip of her wand, she decided that it was indeed, not cursed. It was opened carefully anyways.

Inside the silver wrapping was a white box the size of her palm. She took the lid off with just the tips of her fingers, opening it outwards from herself. In the box was a simple pendant necklace nestled in stain folds. It was a plain lapis lazuli sphere hanging from a silver chain, yet it had a sort of timeless elegance to it. She went to touch it but immediately recoiled as it pricked her index finger. For a moment, she panicked. How had he made this undetectable? What was going to happen now? Then, from the drop of her blood that touched the stone, rose bright green smoke that formed a shape high above her head, almost brushing the rafters. It was hazy at first, but then the form sharpened, and she could make it out for what it was. A snake slithering from the broken mouth of a skull. Merissa didn't need to know its origin as she watched the figure dissipate. She understood it for what it was.

A warning.


	9. Lapis Lazuli

October 29th, 1942

"That's a pretty necklace Re," Abby commented through a mouthful of oatmeal, "Is it new?"

Merissa smiled tucking the pendant back under her robes. It had slipped out while reaching around James to the espresso kettle. She was pleased, as it was her first day back in classes and she was proudly adorning the small gem that she had received the night before. When she had first been pricked by it, she had flung the package away. It spent nearly an hour in the corner of the room before she decided she couldn't leave it there for someone else to find. There was no knowing how much damage it could cause if one picked it up with their full hands. She had unsteadily walked to the corner and scooped it up by its silver wrappings. The next hour it spent on the edge of her bedside table, being glared at. It was wrapped tight, but she still had felt as if it were watching her, amused. By the third hour her curiosity overpowered her fear and she had snatched it up, unwrapped it in her lap and started experimenting with it. She worked through the night, getting no sleep, but by the time the first rays of dawn were coming through the windows, she had removed the curse and could touch it openly. It had been clasped around her neck by the time Madame Charron had woken up and told Merissa she could leave. After a speedy shower she had decided to wear it under her robes until the time was right. She wanted Riddle to see it, but not until he was stuck in a classroom full of witnesses with her.

"Yes," Merissa said conspiratorially, "It was a gift."

Mary looked up from her conversation with Thomas, her ears ever peeled for gossip. The moment Merissa had become a sympathetic character in the eyes of the school, she had been spending more time with them again. She had always been unwilling to engage in conflict, though she loved to hear about it.

"Not from Malfoy I hope," Susan said from beside Alphard, who suddenly looked like he had smelled something foul, "You haven't spoken to him, correct?"

"Correct," Merissa agreed breezily. She had not mourned the absence of her boyfriend from her bedside the past day.

"Serves him right for just sending flowers after what he did to you," sniffed Abby. Her opinion of the boy had taken a tremendous dip over the last few days. Almost everyone's had.

Everyone except Tom and his company, at least, Merissa thought as she glanced over at the neighboring table. Abraxas' blond head was right next to Riddle's dark one, as if all that had happened in the past few months had been forgiven. He had been reinstated it seemed after his heroic save, though one of the conditions seemed to be treating Merissa like the plague. According to Alphard, Abraxas had skipped all of his classes since the incident and had spent all his time lurking around the seventh floor. Merissa had to forcefully remind herself every time she thought of this that it was unimportant what he was doing as long as he was staying away from her. Still, it seemed more than likely that he was doing something for Riddle, which was interesting enough as it was. She looked back down, at her porridge, her spoon was still spinning around cooling it dutifully as she had charmed it to do several minutes ago. It no longer looked appetizing, even as she took the spoon and took a small bite. Disgusting. It seemed the war had finally reached Hogwarts. There was no longer any of the tiny fruit muffins she adored and the apple butter had been mysteriously missing from the table lately. War seemed to consume all good things and apparently pastries were no exception.

"Are you even still together?" Alphard asked, his eyes flickering to Abraxas as well.

"Certainly," Merissa sighed, putting down her spoon in defeat. She would rather go hungry that eat this tasteless glop, "A head wound is nothing compare to what what my parents would do if they - well you know."

Alphard did know. He was terrified of his own parents, yet still no one was quite as monstrous as Gregor Thorpe. His violent temper may have been merely rumor around the Ministry, but even the best kept secrets were not safe within the intricately woven fabric of Britain's esteemed wizarding families.

They all knew, but Abby still piped up, "But isn't that because he's pureblood and it's proper though, right? If some other acceptable pureblood took an interest. . ."

She looked to Susan for support, but she was already shaking her head.

"That's pretty unlikely Abby," Susan told her, "It a pinch, sure, but he would have to default on their relationship a bit more than stunning her to get out of it."

"Still, there's plenty of good families with eligible bachelors and such right?" Abby insisted.

Abby was halfblood and never quite grasped certain mandated aspects of their lives. She could vacation with them and stay at their houses for Christmas break, but she never seemed to get far past romanticizing it all. Her understanding of the darker parts was limited.

"Sure," Merissa shrugged, standing up, "But that's not a problem for right now. He's leaving me alone and that's fine with me. I will deal with it as it comes."

Abby looked disapprovingly at her but before she could be lectured, Merissa called down the table, "C'mon Thomas, let's go to Arithmancy."

Edward looked surprised to be invited along, but grabbed his bag and was quick to follow her out of the hall, a danish still in hand.

/_\

As Tom sat down into his usual desk, (nudging Davao Rosier aside as the small boy had been saving the seat for him) he discovered Merissa Thorpe already occupying the desk directly across from his own, far from her general domain in the far back, on the highest level of desks. He found himself to be a little disappointed that his gift hadn't seemed to have lengthened her hospital visit any. The necklace had been cursed with a spell he had adapted himself and was rather proud of. Sure, while it may have been easier to slip it into one of his dorm mates belongings for a test, it was important to him that she saw what a powerful adversary he was. He had hoped it would at least have her frightened enough to stay out of his sight longer, but here she was, chatting cheerfully with the other Ravenclaw prefect, Thomas. She looked perfectly healthy throwing back her dark hair playfully, inadvertently dazzling a nearby Slytherin boy who was sitting a few seats away.

 _Pitiful_ , Tom thought, eyes narrowing at the boy. He had never even noticed him before, but now he felt significant animosity towards him. As Tom watched her, he almost felt as if she was mocking him with her perfect health. He scowled as Rosier said something to him from his left about the class today. He flicked his wand at him carelessly, doing the equivalent as constricting his lungs for a moment. He was no mood for it today. As Rosier gasped as quietly as he could in his seat, Tom looked more carefully at her. There had been a flash of blue when she moved, but there was no way that what was she was playing with, drawing Thomas's attention down. . .

Riddle practically lurched out of his seat when he realized what she was fingering. It was the necklace he had sent to her. For a moment he was struck with wild excitement as he imagined the repercussions of her handling it so liberally. He then wondered how she could bare to touch it, before he realized she must have lifted the charm. The look of crazed elation dropped from his face to be replaced by an expression for twisted fury. How? He had created the spell and applied it himself. It had taken him days - and he hadn't even bothered to learn how to reverse it. He stared at her, straining his whole body as it seemed torn between staying seated and leaping up and spiriting across the isle to strangle her. There it was, clear as day, being spun around her fingers artfully, as if she had time to practice. The idea of this made his blood boil.

"Mr Riddle?" asked Professor Shacklebolt.

Tom realized he was half raised out of his seat, visibly seething, wand held like a weapon. He quickly sat back down, "My apologies professor, I got a cramp in my leg."

Shacklebolt nodded knowingly before beginning a lecture. Tom found he didn't hear a word. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the necklace, no longer in her fingers, but resting just below the hollow of her pale neck. It was a tiny thing, nothing he had given a second thought to when he stole it. Insignificant until he had given it power, just like her. She was no one until he went after her. The gem brushed along her neck as she leaned down to retrieve a notebook from her bag. If the curse was still intact it would be cutting into her skin, leaving bloody trails and streaming out onto her breakable clavicles. . .

He finally noticed something that nearly sent him over the edge: she was smiling at him. Her lips were pulled into a small smile, that might have looked cordial if it weren't for her sparkling eyes. She looked as if she had been waiting for him to get a joke and was elated now that he understood - the joke was on him. He was positive she was mocking him now.

He began to see her in hazy red, his knuckles turning white at the grip of his wand, still stowed in his robes. He kept it there because he was not sure if he had enough self control not to hex her if it was outside, not to mention the attention a drawn wand would cause, especially from a prefect. She looked incredibly haughty, a queen surrounded by her court in this classroom. Unbothered, untouched and ignoring him. She knew he wouldn't do anything in front of all these people. It made him want to kill her all the more.

Tom would never know what Shacklebolt taught them that day, because he never once took his eyes off her. She was being a model student, scribbling down notes diligently, and looking only from the professor to her notes. No one would have noticed anything off about her, but Tom saw she would fiddle with the pendant every few minutes, and every time he would swear his wand was about to crack under his grip.

But she didn't look up at him once after the first time. She didn't need to - she was making her point. When the class ended, Tom stormed out before anyone else had even began to stand up, aided by the fact that he had never unpacked his bag. He decided the rest of his classes were insignificant compared to his fury, stalking to the come and go room and giving a couple snogging in a nearby corridor detention for good measure.

Once inside he went to his usual corner filled with the previously dilapidated books. It was now stacked orderly and most of them were readable. He snatched the journal off the top and unceremoniously slammed it down onto the dusty couch that he used for such readings. He had made considerable progress since the beginning of the year, and he was nearly halfway done. Still, other than a few hiding places of little consequence, he had yet to discover anything. He had adapted the curse he had put on the necklace from a spell he had found scribbled in the book, and he had considered it to be his greatest triumph so far - that was until a Ravenclaw was able to remove it in a mere couple of hours.

He suddenly screamed, throwing the book onto the ground where it exploded into a mass of loose pages. He couldn't believe this! She was a nobody, one of his followers play things but she had still bested him twice now. He began throwing out wordless spells at the piles of rubble, exploding and snapping them. A large cushioned arm chair was cut clean in half by a violent slash of his wand. An ornate candlestick was melted into a puddle of molten iron when it was hit by a stream of angry orange light. A small plum of smoke started as a blast hit a poorly painted portrait of a Victorian woman. An ugly bust was cut down its forehead as a jet of white hit it. Riddle stood, panting staring at it, finally stopping. He felt some release just in seeing the bust cut. Walking up to it, his pale fingers trailed the deep furrow in the smooth marble he had made. Closing his eyes for moment he took deep breaths, imagining what he would feel if he cut her like that, particularly on her neck where she had dangled her trophy. His breathing returned to normal and he opened his eyes. He calmed himself with this thought and began collecting the pages of the journal.

Once he had them all in hand he stepped back and exploded the bust into a burst of white rock and powder. He smiled down at a piece that landed near his feet before returning to his work. There was so much to be done now.

/_\

Several floors down, Merissa was feeling quite satisfied with herself as she entered potions and saw that her desk was vacant. She had infuriated Riddle more than she could have ever hoped if he was missing classes due to her antics. Bounding to her seat she took out her potions book, looking forward to whatever lesson Professor Slughorn had prepared for them.

"Move Hornby," she demanded brightly, shooing away the blonde girl who was leaning against Merissa's desk speaking to Lestrange who sat just across the isle.

Hornby scowled at her but Lestrange's dark expression motivated her to return to her desk with Susan near the back of the classroom without complaint.

As Abraxas entered, his eyes flickered to the empty seat before looking at her accusingly, scrunching up the dark skin under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't had proper meal in days, never mind sleeping. She ignored his stare, setting up her supplies meticulously. Riddle's absence had given her an unexpected opportunity to prove to Slughorn her talents were not dependent on anyone but herself.

"Healing elixirs today," the portly professor eventually said after stalling extensively, evidently not as pleased with his missing student as Merissa was. His beady eyes kept wandering back to his empty seat as if he expected Tom to appear. Admittedly, Riddle playing hooky was unheard of. With his favorite student missing and Merissa and Abraxas both looking as if they were competing to see who could look more ill, the world seemed to be turning upside down.

Merissa had already flipped to the correct page by the time Professor Slughorn had finished his sentence and was hurriedly putting away ingredients she wouldn't need so they didn't get in her way. She made a split second decision to boil the feverfew in essence of yarrow first, eyeing the correct amount as she poured them into her warming cauldron. She was taking a risk as she had never tried this before, but it made sense to her, which was the most common indicator of a good addition to a potion. Slughorn was watching her with raised eyebrows already, but did not intervene.

"Crushed unicorn horn and dittany stems," she muttered to herself, standing up and heading to the front of the classroom to collect these ingredients.

Her hands were full when she turned to go back to her seat. She met eyes with Olive Hornby just a moment before she felt an inexplicable lurch from her right leg that nearly sprawled her forward.

"Careful Nicholas Flammel," Alphard joked, as he steadied her, having been just going up to get ingredients for his own potion, "Even brewing the elixir of life is going to be put on hold if smash all the ingredients."

She looked up at him, eyes wide and he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Watch out. Hornby and Lestrange have been whispering about you. It was her who just hexed you."

She nodded, jerking her her head subtly as if she was just orienting herself. He clapped her on the back and continued forward to collect his own unicorn horn. Merissa kept her eyes from jumping to her alleged assailant, walking back to her seat pretending to take inventory of the collection of materials in his hands. Hornby's time would come.

After an extremely successful period of potion making, Merissa was grinning to herself as she packed up her ingredients. Her flawless healing elixir was already tucked safely into her bag in a small stopper flask. Slughorn had insisted she kept some and was sending a sample personally to Slevin's Apothecary, a teaser for the larger order she had began brewing under his supervision for them. Her mood was significantly dampened when a blond Slytherin blocked her from exiting her desk.

If he felt anything speaking to her for the first time since he had stunned her, his steely eyes did not betray him. She hardened her jaw as she sat back down, unhappy to have to look up at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Susan and Abby disappear out of the door. They had no idea anything was amiss.

"Where is Riddle?" he demanded without any greeting. She refused to kink her neck enough to speak to his already tall figure so she spoke to his elegant leather book-bag instead.

"I am not responsible for my potions partners whereabouts," she snarked, "You're the one who is so chummy with him, why don't you tell me?"

Alphard began inching closer, his half cleaned cauldron forgotten behind him and still sizzling lightly. Slughorn had already left to his office, either unaware or untroubled by the recent events. They were now the only one's left in the room as everyone else had been eager to escape the extended class, even if it was to do more homework.

"Don't get cute with me Thorpe. He's not here and you look like Christmas came early," Abraxas said looking bored as he stood like a wall in her path. He was unyielding as a boulder, and she couldn't hope to squeeze past him.

"Well I can't help it if his presence is a hindrance to my brewing abilities," she began loftily, glancing up to see that he was pinching the bridge of his nose at this comment. That's what let her know she was on to a great start, so she continued, "Really he doesn't have the mind for it you know, rigidity and all, but you know all about that!" she smiled up at him. His hand moved to take out his wand, but Alphard stepped forward, jostling his shoulder so he could squeeze between them.

"Settle down you two," Alphard requested, trying to sound nonchalant despite his tight jaw and hand deep in his robes, presumably around his wand. Abraxas and himself were a mere few inches from eachother faces, which did nothing to calm the situation, "No need for a lovers spat."

"Mind your own business, Black," Malfoy barked.

"Sorry, but she's my friend, it's my business."

"Friend," Malfoy's lip twitched, and he leaned in closer, making Alphard grimace away from his proximity, "How amusing."

"I don't see why it would be amusing, the joke would be on you if that wasn't the case," Alphard said snidely, refusing to move farther back, though he was nearly in Merissa's lap already.

"Hardly," Abraxas sneered, but Alphard shoved him back, taking him by surprise.

"Don't you dare," he spat, pushing his wand into Malfoy's chest.

"Stop," Merissa said sharply, standing up as she now had room to do so, "This is isn't a discussion we need to have. I don't know where Riddle is, Malfoy, honestly. Come _here_ Alphard," she hissed, pulling him back by his arm when he made no motion to move by himself, almost nose to nose with Abraxas again, which was quite a feat given how much shorter Alphard was. Their truce had been off since she had been stunned and tensions between them had never been higher. Alphard had started sleeping inside the common room regularly now, too disgusted in Abraxas to be around him anymore than was necessary.

Merissa towed her friend from of the dungeons and outside, hoping the cool air would knock some sense into him. He didn't fight her, but she still have to steer him rather forcefully as marching back up to Abraxas seemed to still be a powerful thought in the forefront of his mind. She didn't let go of him until they had made it a good ways away from the castle, in front of a large granite fountain that was popular for reclining on the wide rims during nicer days. Alphard looked at her darkly, but didn't say anything as she folded her arms defensively in front of herself.

"I didn't do it to protect him," she told him stonily, her years of experience with his temperament telling her this was what was currently peeving him.

He ignored her, and she watched him pull out a cigarette and light it with a practiced flick of his wand. She touched his wrist as it brushed his robes, stowing his wand away, "I did it for you."

He took a long drag and blew it out slowly, pondering her sidelong through the cloud. A nearby third year was waving the smoke of of her face, looking disgusted, "What, do you want one?" Merissa snapped, causing her to scuttle away.

"I don't need protection Re," he began, but she shook her head.

"I didn't say you did."

He considered this taking another drag, before offering the cigarette to her. She hesitated as she usually didn't smoke, but her nerves were feeling rather frayed. Once she had accepted it, Alphard started rubbing his hands together, warming them and drying the cold sweat that had formed. She closed her eyes as she inhaled and coughed lightly. It really was a disgusting taste, but she was starting to calm down.

A strong gust of wind came up, blowing leaves at their ankles and easily pushing through Merissa's thin jumper. She shivered and sat down on the edge of the fountain, wrapping her arms around her torso.

Alphard fished a jacket out of his bag and wordlessly offered it to her. She accepted, trading it to him for the cigarette. They stood there, silently smoking together until there was barely a butt left.

"I'm going to head to lunch, do you want to come Re?" he asked, handing the smoldering stogie back to her after taking a last puff.

She waved him off, but made to take off his coat.

"No keep it," he insisted, "I already had Care of Magical Creatures today so I won't be going outside until tomorrow unless you want to sneak out into the forest tonight and stake some vampires," she rolled her eyes at him, "Oh c'mon that was a joke," he grinned, though he had been somewhat serious, "You can come visit me after dinner to return it," he smiled gently at her so she nodded.

Once he had gone, she stood up on the fountain's edge and walked a few careful steps across it before hopping off, now facing away from the castle. As beautiful as it was, gray stone became tiresome after a while. Consistency, after all, was not a part of her life anymore, and she found she enjoyed the frozen landscape more than the familiarly sculpted towers. The trees were freshly dusted with the first snow of the season and were stark white against the darkening sky. It was hardly afternoon, but the sun was setting as autumn greedily sucked the light from the day. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago it had been sunny. The sun was nowhere to be seen. Winter had come upon the countryside without any warning. She wanted to be alone for a little, surveying the icy grounds, but after just a few minutes, she was spun around by a firm grasp. She found herself face to face with Abraxas again, looking even further annoyed than earlier.

"Here you are and -" he stopped in disgust, wrinkling his nose, "Smoking? And is that Alphard's jacket? Of course it is," he snapped when she just looked at him coolly, her jaw shut tight, not planning to respond, "Of course you would be out here in the freezing cold, smoking, and wearing his jacket. That's just so typical of you."

She made a point to blow her last mouthful of smoke into his face and tossed the butt to the ground before saying, "At least I'm wearing a jacket in the cold."

He sneered at her, "You know I hate that disgusting habit of yours."

"I do, and _I don't care_ ," she said, tossing his words back at him, squashing out the smoldering waste with her toe, and making to brush past him, before he caught her arm.

"You-" he dragged his other hand over his face before continuing, "You are so immature."

She didn't want to look up at him again so she glared at the stone wall instead. It was similar to his eyes at the very least. Grey and chilly as winter. Comments like this were plenty common at home but she had grown to expect a higher standard from Hogwarts as long as Joseph wasn't around.

Now she felt a fool for ever trusting either.

"I don't know Abraxas," she muttered, "You expect a lot from someone who is apparently so immature. Maybe that's what you're doing wrong. Will you let go?"

She wiggled her arm in his grip but his long fingers wrapped all the way around her trapped appendage and did not budge despite the slippery leather of her borrowed jacket.

"You're just proving my point - no," he stopped himself, putting a hand up as if she was the one who needed to be calmed, "No, this is not worth arguing about. This is toxic. We used to get along fine, what is the issue?"

"You stunned me you arse! That's issue."

She had began trying to pry his fingers individually off of her but he took her unhindered hand and entwined it in his own, making her look back up. He was wearing a serious and tender expression that made her uncomfortable without even hearing the speech she knew would undoubtedly accompany such an constructed face.

"Okay," he said, shaking his head, "What can I do to fix that? I just want my old girlfriend back. Do you remember all those summers in Italy? Even just a few weeks ago, everything was fine, you were being wonderful, taking classes seriously, coming to my games and practices. . .behaving."

His appeal to her sensitive side did nothing as most of her memories of Italy with him were waiting around in over priced shoes stores while him and his mother played dress up with her as if she were a doll.

"Yes I suppose I was acting just the way you like," she flared, "I just have trouble maintaining it when we're being lorded over."

"Not this again," he groaned, "This is circular. . . .pointless! This isn't about Riddle."

"Yes it is," she cried indignantly, "The only reason we weren't speaking is because of him and the only reason you talked me today was to ask about him. It's all about him."

"You're the one making it about him," Abraxas insisted, "I recognize that necklace Merissa. He took it from Rosier a few days ago. Rosier was going to give it to some girl he fancied, but Riddle told him that was foolish and that he needed it for something. I'm not even going to begin to speculate how you have it now and why you are wearing it, but my point is, you are the one making this about Riddle. Not me."

This was all indisputably true, and interesting at that. She had wondered how he gotten his hands on the necklace, as it seemed unlikely that he would visit a jewelry store just to curse her. Despite this, the accusation of her being the one who was obsessed with Riddle was preposterous to her, especially coming from Abraxas, who nearly fell to his knees every time his idol was around.

Merissa was taken aback by this enough to allow him to cup her chin in his hand, "We don't have to care Mer. We just have to live with each other."

He was more earnest than she had ever seen him. He so desperately wanted her to understand. And it made her sick to her stomach.

She slapped his hand away, allowing a flash of heat to flow through her hand. It was easy when he made her so angry. The energy was already there, almost impossible to stop. In fact, she was unsure how much control she had with it anymore. He withdrew his arm, cursing, and she saw with pleasure that a red burn was forming in the shape of her hand on his wrist. She hoped it would scar and he would have another addition to his collection. She pushed past him, making him stumble back, and went back into the castle.

Abraxas steadied himself against the fountain edge. He was already unstable as it was. Riddle was having him work on different ways to get into the come and go room at all hours now for seemingly no reason, though he knew better than to expect his old place as Riddle's most favored so quickly. Once he had refilled his lungs with the cold air again, he felt strong enough to go back inside and find something to treat his arm. Another scar was inevitable he knew, but in this condition if he lost any blood he would faint.

Not that he blamed her. He hoped this would be the last time he had to provoke her. There was no reason for her to be around Riddle now, he had made sure of that. If everything continued as it should and she didn't do anything senseless, this would all blow over by the holidays.

His parents would be disappointed of course if Merissa never forgave him. His mother fawned over her even more than she did him as she had always wanted a daughter to dress and spoil. His father on the other hand was insistent. Only a boy would do, and as they had one on the first try there was no reason for anymore. He was quite lonely growing up, never allowed to play with anyone but Alphard, Avery and occasionally Nott, all of which who lived very far away. Merissa and himself visited often, especially after the arrangement of their betrothment at ten, though she was always more interested in following her older brother around, at least back then. Abraxas felt guilty that both him and Joseph had pushed her away now.

Abraxas stalked through the castle, clutching his arm and he hurried up the steps, receiving several suspicious glares as he did so. Despite all of the other much more pressing issues, he disliked the infamousy his spats with Merissa caused. When he finally reached the seventh floor, he hardly bothered to look around for onlookers before he began pacing in front of the tapestry of a uncoordinated trolls until a door appeared in the wall. His vision was starting to close as he entered the come and go room, whispering cursing to himself, when he stopped short noticing the room was not vacant as he anticipated.

"My deepest apologies my lord," he said quickly, dipping his head, "I did not know you would be here. I just came for something to heal this," he indicated his ravaged arm.

Tom snapped shut the leather bound journal and in a quick motion had stashed it under the cushions to look up innocently at Abraxas all before he had began speaking. Abraxas blinked in confusion as he still had dark borders in his vision and could not see the motion clearly, but Tom quickly diverted his attention.

"Come here Malfoy," Riddle commanded, annoyed by his disruption, but immediately pouncing on the opportunity when he saw the way Abraxas was clutching his arm. He has a good guess where the oozing marks might have come from. Malfoy obeyed, shyly coming over to the couch.

"Sit."

Abraxas did exactly as he was told, and Riddle took his arm into his lap to see it closer, dipping his head down to examine it. His breath brushed against the wound gently. Malfoy stiffened.

"Whatever happened to you?" Tom asked, careful not to sound too interested despite the fact that his nose was a mere few centimeters from Abraxas' arm.

Mer - Thorpe," he corrected himself quickly.

"You may call her by her first name Malfoy. She is to be your wife someday," Tom replied calmly. He meant this as a jibe.

"Merissa burned me," Abraxas revised uncertainly.

"Hmm," Riddle said, prodding at the flesh, ignoring Malfoy's wincing. It was obvious that the burn was just where her hand had made contact with his skin, the line clearly defined. He could perfectly picture how her hand had hit the unfortunate arm.

"Does she do this frequently?" he queried, poking the worst of the burn with the sharp tip of his yew wand. Nothing happened, which was frustrating. Her magic left no trace other than the obvious injury.

Tom was still elated to have this convenient opportunity to see her handiwork and ask about it without seeming too invested. It was fascinating how precise it seemed. Perfect and potent magic, undeniably. Faced with this example of her work it was impossible to deny her talent, for this very specific ability at least.

"Ye-no," Malfoy was distracted being this close to Riddle. He could almost count the individual eyelashes that nearly brushed his cheeks. Merissa's lashes actually did, but he had never admired them like he was admiring Tom's now. All reasonable suspicions left him as his eyes began tracing Riddle's sharp jawline as it flexed.

"Which is it?" Tom snapped, eyes flashing up.

Abraxas attempted to regain his apathetic stare, removing all affect from his tone, "Yes. It happens when she loses her temper."

"How?" Riddle demanded immediately.

Malfoy began to explain the best he could while attempting to control his erratic heartbeat.


	10. Unconventional Magic

**Hello lovelies! I'm updating twice this week as a thank you for all the kind words of encouragement I got after posting the last chapter. So look for Chapter 11 on Friday if final exams this week don't actually kill me. Special shoutout to** _AnAwkwardSilence_ **for being my guinea pig audience for all of these chapters so far. Please review or PM if you like this chapter - I love interacting with other fans/writers. Enjoy!**

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October 29th, 1942

Merissa cursed her lack of foresight as she began the descent to the dungeons. It had not struck her that in returning Alphard's jacket, she would be forced to go down into her enemy's lair. Her concern was magnified as it seemed unlikely Abraxas would come to her defense after she had seared his skin off.

She got several sidelong stares as she made her way to the common room, but she was used to everyone's heightened interest in her by now. There was no shortage of gossip about her, and the juiciest of it was true. She had just opened the door, muttering, "Snakeskin" when Olive Hornby nearly crashed into her, coming out from the common room.

Merissa stared at the girl, hoping she would still be cautious enough with her to just leave. This was wishful thinking she realized as Hornby narrowed her cat-like eyes, "Are you lost Thorpe?" she jeered.

"No, do you want me to help you get lost though," Merissa asked, lazily raising her wand, "I could vanish your tongue this time since it's so eager to leave your mouth. I'm sure you have first years to terrorize, that'll help your ego. Going toes with me won't."

Olive looked like she had more to say, but Merissa marched past her into the common room. It was mostly empty, save a few second years doing their homework and Avery with Mulciber, whispering to each other. She ignored them and flopped down into an armchair near the radio console to wait for Alphard. She began fiddling with the dials before she found a Muggle station that she had been monitoring lately. She swung her legs up on the arm rest and tipping her head back as she reclined. She was not concerned about the pair of boys attempting anything, as they had paled upon her entrance and Mulciber now seemed to be staying as still as possible, hoping not to draw her attention.

". . . still active in Stalingrad, though they seem to be losing a lot of their momentum as the storms are picking up. It is estimated around 150,000 German soldiers are dead outside the city at this particular point. Here on the western front, an inexplicable explosion of 200 American submarines is still being investigated."

Merissa perked up at this, listening carefully. Often these strange occurrences to the Muggles were something more. She had been successfully predicting which accidents were actual accidents and which were more for months now, just using the radio. It drove her mother mad, so near the end of summer she had started sneaking a wireless to bed with her. It had been difficult to explain how it had gotten destroyed a week later when she had rolled over it.

"That is correct Williams," said the other host, "It seems impossible that German forces could have such power behind their blasts, so we are currently trying to speculate if they could be receiving technology from France. . ."

Merissa was sitting upright now. She could think of a few spells with that kind of destructive power. Her own manifestations of anger had been that strong before if she had not suppressed them. However, her musing were cut short by the entrance of Abraxas. They stared at each other for a long moment, before Tom came in after him. They had clearly been together.

Riddle's face slowly pulled into a twisted smile as he took her in, looking like a deer in the headlights, "Is that a _muggle_ radio broadcast she is listening to Malfoy?" he asked, loudly.

Merissa stared at Abraxas, though he had looked away. He was ducking his head slightly, as he often did with Riddle to make their heights equal. Being taller than your leader was a crime he was unwilling to commit. It made his usually proud stature look broken.

"She does many things that make little sense," Malfoy replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He was unwilling to meet eyes with Merissa again and was examining his own shoes.

"There is a war going on," she said stiffly, "It affects everyone."

"Hardly," Riddle's twisted expression left no trace of his usual handsomeness, "It's just muggles dying. That's the only thing they're good at."

Merissa wanted to hex the faux smile off his face, but he swaggered past her, "Come Malfoy. There's nothing for us here."

Abraxas walked past her as well, head bowed and eyes on the ground. She felt slightly guilty for burning him when she was sure he was suffering abuse from Riddle as well, but he went by too fast for her to think of anything to say to him. She leaned back again when Mulciber and Avery left as well, probably going to berate Abraxas.

She began tensely fiddling with the aquamarine ring she wore on her ring finger to distract herself from the knot in her stomach which was almost constantly present now. Joseph had given the ring to her for her eleventh birthday in response to her concern about leaving home and therefore the oceanside behind. Needless to say, they had been closer back then.

"You can have a little piece of the ocean with you everywhere," he told her excitedly, "Hogwarts only has a lake, so you will need to next year."

She smiled fondly at the memory and looked out the thick window to the sickly green water of the lake. It certainly wasn't the ocean that she loved, and she did appreciate the stone to remind her of the sea, even now.

She had moved on to picking at the metal studs of the dark leather armchair she was on when Alphard finally came down. He didn't look surprised to see her, but he did take her by surprise when he lifted her onto the couch with him. He didn't say anything as she leaned her head against his shoulder and buried her face in his robes. He rubbed small circles on her back, chin resting on her hair.

"I know Re," he murmured, "I know."

She took a deep breath before lifting her face back up and turning her eyes to the fireplace. It was just embers now, glowing dimly.

"You knew I was here," she remarked softly.

"Well I did invite you," he said, taking the jacket from her lap, "I didn't expect you so early though. Did you even eat?" he asked.

She shook her head and he sighed, "Well, I can't blame you I guess. As soon as I saw Malfoy I knew you must have been downstairs. No one makes him look more worn."

She laughed, it's musical quality hindered significantly by a crack, "I guess I have that effect on people," though Alphard shook his head.

"Not everyone Re," he hummed. She allowed herself to be comforted by his warmth curled up against him for a while, just listening to him breath.

About a half hour had passed before he moved, standing up to stretch and taking a spot several feet from her.

"People will be back from dinner soon," he reminded her when she looked slightly hurt.

She both wanted to grin and grimace as she imagined Joseph's face if he caught her snuggling up to Alphard Black, his fiancée's younger brother. For all generations of impeccable reputation, the Black's had, Alphard was less that a proper companion. His own parents turned a blind eye to his behavior because he was their only male heir, and therefore essential for carrying on the family line, however Merissa's family was not so forgiving. Her mere friendship with him was frowned upon.

"Wouldn't want Walburga to see," she teased, taking a pillow into her arms in attempt to retain some his residual body heat. She had never met anyone who was so warm.

"You jest," he said, smirking at the top of her head as he spoke, "But as I recall you're still rather terrified of her."

"I feel I have a right to be after the way she would scream at me for going into her room. You should have heard when I took her hairbrush once," Merissa said, trying to frown at him but finding the corner of her mouth already stuck tilted up, "Though I'm sure you got in trouble for that as well, though your hair was never as long as it is now."

"Believe me, I heard that. And it's okay to be jealous Merissa," he joked, pushing his long hair back.

She snorted and wrumpled up his hair with a hand before turning upside down in her seat so he head was out of his reach in case he tried to retaliate. Her own hair nearly brushed the ground, legs crossed on the couch's high armrest.

The lapis lazuli pendant came out from beneath her robes at the angle and settled in the hollow of her neck. Alphard frowned upon its appearance.

"Who did you say that was from?" he asked.

She quickly tucked it back under her shirt, glancing around to make sure the room was still empty. She had forgotten she was still wearing it, which was careless given where she was. While she took pleasure in getting under Riddle's skin, she hardly wanted to provoke him when she was alone as she had been.

It rolled out again immediately, so she sat back up and hid it below her robes again. This time it obeyed. She looked up to see Alphard's lips had formed a hard line.

"I can't say," she said evasively.

Alphard, after cutting off Malfoy, had no idea what was happening between her and Riddle, though he assumed it was getting worse. Tom himself even seemed to be on edge the last few days, though he was hiding it masterfully. There were some things you noticed after sharing a room with someone for five years.

"Does Malfoy know?" he asked somberly, eyes boring into hers.

She stalled pulling her skirt back into position, as it had become lopsided with all of her shifting. When she began to flatten down the folds, Alphard coughed pointedly, and she looked back up hesitantly.

"Well, yes," she admitted, "But-"

"You don't need to defend yourself to me, Re," he said, though he was still unusually stiff, "You're already defending yourself from everyone else. I just wish you didn't have to do everything on your own."

Merissa had opened her mouth to argue when the common room door burst open and an explosion of giggles interrupted them. Olive Hornby and Andrew Nott had entered, Nott having apparently just made an amusing comment. Merissa shifted farther away from Alphard as the rest of the house trickled in.

They moved into two arm chairs closer to the fire, as the noise grew, Hornby's loud shrieks of laughter piercing their eardrums. Merissa could tell Alphard still wanted to say something, but either because of the room full of potential eavesdroppers or because he knew she wouldn't listen, he remained silent. Merissa began subtly playing with the flames, hoping it might help flattened the crease on his brow.

Her hand hidden by her long sleeves, she flicked a finger at the flames and they flared up for a moment. She swirled the same finger and they began forming small spirals at the tips, small enough to look like random movement from far enough away, but Alphard was close enough to see the tiny firestorm she had created. He looked up at her, his face alight with a childlike glow. She remembered his awe when he had first discovered her talent. They would kneel at the grate of the mighty kitchen stove in the basement of the Black house, covering their knees in soot. He would whisper excitedly, "Again!" as she giggled and spun her hand around, the flames whooshing in response. They had been found out one day after starting a small fire and had been forbade from playing in there any longer. There was still a scorch mark on the floor, which they were both very fond of.

"How do you do that?" asked a voice from behind them, making them jump.

Merissa looked up and saw it was Phillip Avery, a rather bulky blond who was part of Riddle's inner circle. He was decent despite this, if not a tad slow. He was standing hesitantly a few feet behind them, eyes were wide and curious on her hidden hand. Merissa guessed he was remembering how he'd seen her stun Lestrange.

She cleared her throat and looked to Alphard who shrugged. It wasn't as if it was a secret anymore. The whole school had been whispering about it since.

"I've always been able to," she told him truthfully, "At ten I started whizzing down biscuits from the jar, since I couldn't reach it. Drove my parents insane."

Avery grinned, "I bet. But it's not in your blood, Joseph can't do it. So how? Is it related to the way you can do that weird thing with your hands?"

Merissa shifted uncomfortably. Phillip knew of course, being one of Abraxas's favorite playmates when they were children. Still, even if he wasn't purposefully collecting any information right now, she had not forgotten how he had been one of those who had tailed her near the beginning of the year.

"I'm not sure," she said, putting her hands up to indicate ignorance.

"Its bloody brilliant," he told her earnestly. He then stopped himself and began chewing on his cheek, "Do me a favor and don't mention I said that to Riddle though, okay?"

"I won't," she assured him, exchanging a look with Alphard out of the corner of her eye. Avery smiled politely this time and stepped back to join the rest of the Slytherin's.

"You shouldn't have said anything," Alphard hissed, "He's not our friend anymore, Re He's going to pass that on to Riddle the first chance he gets."

"I'm counting on that," Merissa whispered stonily, "None of it was true. I started stealing cookies that way at three, just no one found out about it until ten. And it isn't quite related to my hands, because it is the same magic. I'm just converting my emotions into useful tasks. I'd rather feed Riddle bad information myself than risk something correct being unearthed."

"Oh," he murmured, comprehension dawning on his face, turning it from serious back to his usual grin, "You're getting better at lying, good for you."

"Why thank you," Merissa replied, starting to spin the fire again. While she did feel it was better to have Tom underestimate her abilities, she doubted he would make the mistake again to be underprepared, so she couldn't either. This meant more time would need to be poured into dueling, which made her tired just thinking of. If she could resign as a prefect, she certainly would have, as it seemed so irrelevant now.

"So, I saw Malfoy's arm before I came down here," he told her, trying to sound nonchalant. She looked over and saw he was trying incredibly hard to keep his face expressionless, though she couldn't quite tell what he was hiding beneath.

"By useful tasks you seem to mean turning his arm into a roast, eh?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows at him and he added rushedly, "I ask that as an example. Believe me, you have my greatest sympathies. I don't even need to know what he said this time to deserve it."

He ran a hand nervously through his hair as he watched her mull this over. He added softly, "You probably shouldn't tell me what he said either, I might have to add itching powder to his sheets again if you do."

"Don't," Merissa sighed, turning her eyes back to the flames, "He gets enough punishment from Riddle as it is."

Alphard nodded reluctantly in agreement. There was really no denying that, but he was eager to take some of his frustrations out on Abraxas. From his perspective, it was Abraxas' fault that he was out of the know in the first place, not to mention he apparently knew the origin of the small blue pendant Merissa was so secretive of. It was customary for Merissa to share the most with Abraxas, and from Alphard's perspective, this hadn't changed despite his abhorrent treatment of her.

"You're still so willing to defend him," Alphard commented hotly.

"Not him, you," she insisted immediately, but he just stared at her until she looked down and bit her lip. It was true, but not the whole truth. Though her abilities had improved, apparently, she still couldn't lie to him. The room was still brimming with noise, but she still lowered her voice.

"No one else is going to defend him," she admitted, "Not even himself. I know you think he doesn't deserve to be, still. . . someone should."

Alphard continued to stare at her pulling his finger through his hair thoughtlessly. His dark locks had grown past his jaw now and brushed his collar when he them it back down.

"You've finally gone balmy," he concluded, finally looking away from her and to the fire again.

"Probably," she agreed. They spent the rest of the evening talking quietly about other subjects, though even as he walked her to Ravenclaw tower and bid her goodnight, she wasn't so sure how far off his conclusion really was.

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 **To those fantastic enough to review (from newest to oldest):**

 _EviColt_ **: Thank you! It is so touching to know people actually have fun reading this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well, though it wasn't quite as action packed as the last. I will be updating again soon, I promise. PS: I read the first chapter of your Tom Riddle fic and am now fighting the urge to read the whole thing tonight instead of sleeping so good on you.**

 _Ivet_ **: I'm glad you're liking it! I try to keep my portrayal of Tom pretty canon, and playing with all his dynamic edges is so much fun. Merissa has a long journey ahead of her and developing her has been a joy. In regards to their friendship, I can say that they will eventually stop trying to murder each other, though it make take a while, don't kill me friend.**

 _beefsupreme_ **: Just typing your username made my physically shake my bed with laughter, and I mean that in the best way possible. Merissa may be the queen of sass, but you are the queen of usernames. On a more serious note, I'm happy you like her personality. Sometimes I feel like he Sass TM might come across too strong, but good to know its not unappreciated. Imagery is something I struggle with, so bless you for noticing it.**

 _Guest_ **: Thanks for your feedback! While it wouldn't make much sense for Merissa to be able to break off her betrothment, I hope you weren't disappointed in her aggressive response to Abraxas' nonsense. I definitely don't mean for Merissa to be a submissive character.**

 _hellofriend_ **: Hello friend! Thank you so much for being one of my first reviewers. I hope you're still reading and can see this. Hopefully the last several chapters have continued on an upwards trajectory regarding your reading experience.**

 _bulelo_ **: I know I PMed you about your seriously amazing review, but I felt like I needed to acknowledge you publicly as well. Your review was so helpful and detailed, it really kept me writing. You have an exceptional eye for editing and kind words from someone with such a talent for writing is incredibly flattering. Tommy boy isn't quite so polite anymore though ;)**

 _AnAwkwardSilence_ **: Thank you! It was my intention to start developing as many relationships between characters as soon possible (as you know hehe). Plus, who wasn't always itching for Harry to head to Hogwarts in the books? I know I was.**


	11. Black Cat

**Hello friends, long chapter for you today. I am expecting to update again next Friday or sooner. Enjoy!**

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October 31st, 1942

Merissa was not sure of many things, but she was sure that her hand was inexplicably wet. She became gradually more conscious and moved her hand, hoping for the strange sensation to leave her. It continued, so she groggily squeezed her hand into a fist. Not only did this make a strange squelching sound but also did not result in a fist. It was not only wet and cold, but solid!

She bolted up, fully awake and looking wildly around. Laughter erupted from around her and she recognized what had happened. Susan, Abby, and Mary were grinning, standing around her bed. She looked down to her hand to see it was immersed in a bowl of green slime.

"Happy Halloween," Susan sang, tossing a rainbow of cellophane wrapped candies on to Merissa's bed, as she sat down on her own, "We thought we'd do something special, it being your favorite holiday."

"It was when I was a kid," Merissa gasped, still recovering from her initial shock, and accepting a small hand towel from Abby to wipe her hands off on, "And we rarely were able to actually sneak out to celebrate. I think you just wanted to wake me up with this glop."

Despite her accusation, she not only knew Susan did this for her, but also that it had cheered her up. So often lately, whenever Merissa was scared it was because of a serious reason. It was refreshing to be frightened by a harmless prank. Nothing had even gotten on her bedspread.

"We may have had ulterior motives," Abby agreed, winking as she collected the slime. It flopped around the bowl, oozing as it turned more liquid without Merissa's hand in it anymore. Merissa wondered if they had made it themselves or found it at Zonko's. It seemed well made either way - it had certainly served its purpose.

"We'll be back," Abby told her, "Mary wants to see if we can get James."

Merissa nodded to her friends as they slunk out, conniving the best way to enter the dormitory without being heard as they went. She unwrapped a candy and then offered one to Susan.

"Thank you," Merissa said earnestly, now that they had the room to themselves, "I needed that. This Muggle candy reminds me of us slinking out of your parents' house all those years ago and going door to door collecting treats."

"They thought our robes were costumes," Susan recalled, grinning as she popped a lemon drop into her mouth, "Thank Abby for the candy though. Her mum picked it up at a real Muggle store for her. Can you imagine?"

Susan's expression glazed over as the vision of such a thing danced before her eyes. Although she was usually willing to go on an adventure, the Muggle world intimidated her, and she was therefore impressed by anyone who dared venture into it. It was one of the reasons she admired Alphard so much. His ability to function in both was revered as a near superpower.

"Susan," Merissa laughed, "Her mum _is_ a Muggle."

"Still," she insisted, shaking her head, "Brilliant woman. Anyways, are you going to get ready?"

Merissa pulled her blanket up defensively, unwilling to leave the warmth of her bed unless Susan had a very good reason.

"Get ready for?" she asked.

"Hogsmeade of course!" Susan said, glancing down at her worriedly, "Are you sure you didn't hit your head too hard when Abraxas stunned you?"

"I'm sure," Merissa said, though she still stayed in bed and looked down at her legs, still tucked under the covers.

Hogsmeade was something she had always greatly looked forward to, however now she was feeling apprehensive about even standing up and leaving this room. She didn't know what to expect, since she knew she wouldn't be sharing a butterbeer with Abraxas in the three broomsticks or with Avery and Nott plotting the use of Zonko's products on their unsuspecting classmates. While they were small things, which she did not enjoy nearly as much as moments spent with Susan or Alphard, they were still moments she was accustomed too, and now they would likely never come to pass again.

"I considered not waking you up," Susan confessed, her tone dropping when she saw her friends expression, "Because I thought it would be hard for you. But I knew you'd still want to."

"I don't want to," Merissa countered, though she pushed back the covers and stepped out of bed.

She went to her wardrobe and pulled out a black collared jumper and skirt, winking at Susan, who was watching her with mild bemusement, "It is Halloween though. I'm dressing as a powerful witch."

Admittedly, Merissa was still dreading seeing anyone at Hogsmeade, as the news of her attack and brief duel with Riddle was still fresh in everyone's mind, causing her to be an even greater spectacle than before. Although the most recent events turned her from a pariah to a sympathetic character, more than anything she wished she could go back to when everyone greeted her neutrally. Despite this, it felt good to depart down the gravely trail to the village alongside Susan with Abby, James, and Mary farther back, unhappy with the pairs swift pace. Merissa and Susan could have been sisters, their dark hair blending in with their black clothing and pointed hats. Susan had suggested they wear them, as everyone had them at school but rarely used them. They had giggled at each other's appearances, but Susan had insisted they keep them on.

"Where are we going first?" Merissa asked loudly, hoping their friends would hear her. When no one responded, she glanced back to see if they had an opinion, and found that they were almost a half mile behind, only recognizable because of Abby's vibrant hair and the figure they were now walking with, Edward Thomas.

She did however see a dark shape slip behind a tree as she turned. Her eyes darted back and after a moment, recognized that it was Alphard creeping up with his fellow beater, Kenneth Wilson. Both were close behind her and Susan now. He put a finger to his mouth when he saw he had been spotted so Merissa turned back around, hiding a grin.

"They're way behind us now with Thomas," Merissa told Susan, "No need to even look, you can't see them anymore."

"Honestly," Susan sighed, shaking her head, "Faithless creatures, subjecting James to that prat too. Where do you want to go then? We have an hour before we're supposed to meet them in The Three Broomsticks."

"I would really fancy a drink in Madame Puddifoot's," a raspy voice whispered into their ears, arms grabbing their shoulders.

"Bloody hell Alphard," Susan hissed when she saw it was just the pair of mischievous Slytherin beaters. Kenneth greeted them politely, pushing back his ashy brown hair from his forehead as he shook hands with Susan. Merissa exchanged a conspiratory look with Alphard that told her all she needed to know.

"You knew, didn't you," Susan realized, nudging Merissa, as they began walking again, "That's why you told me not to look. You're the real faithless creature."

"Happy Halloween," Merissa reminded her merrily, tossing a candy from her bag at Susan, who, due to her exceptional chaser abilities, caught it easily and popped it into her mouth.

"Madame Puddifoot's sounds like the most frightening of options," Alphard mused, "I've heard Druella finally swindled Nott into going with her. Bound to end in gore. Which would be fitting for the day. . . My Merlin Merissa, I'm joking," he added, seeing her horrified expression.

Merissa had a vendetta against the establishment ever since Abraxas had dragged her there on their first Hogsmeade trip, third year. Not only had they been suffering the natural awkward tendencies of their age, but there were countless couples in varying levels of the same uncomfortable state surrounding them. She had finally convinced him to leave after she nearly fainted at the mere smell of the place, before they even had their second cup of poisonously sweet tea. Abraxas had not attempted to recreate the date again fortunately and after that they went to The Three Broomsticks together like a decent couple (though they had never been one).

But not anymore, Merissa reminded herself, suddenly feeling rather lonely.

"I want to get a cat," she said seriously, as Alphard and Susan groaned simultaneously, "I know I always say that!" she defended hastily, "But I mean it this time. You two are so busy now, I need a friend. And I'm so used to having so many animals at home. . ."

"Oh, honestly," Susan said, exchanging an exasperated expression with Alphard.

Kenneth, who was had never been along with her on a Hogsmeade trip was quite puzzled by their spirited reactions, "Do you guys not like cats?" he asked.

"No, cats are great," Alphard muttered, "It's just that she's so indecisive. Shopping with her, especially for something so important, takes ages."

Merissa huffed exasperatedly and moved forwards to link arms with Susan, who turned to add, "Not to mention she drags us here every trip."

Merissa frowned, "Only because I can't bring Abraxas. He sneezes when he walks by the place."

"Why would you get an animal your boyfriend is allergic t- Oh!" Kenneth stopped abruptly when he saw Alphard's expression.

"More reason to," Merissa muttered under her breath as they reached the village.

It was already swarming with students, which made her even more eager to escape into a less frequented place. It was too easy to be watched on a day like this, and if the last few weeks had been any indication, someone was always doing just that. She wondered vaguely how Riddle might select who followed her when, or if they just drew lots. Refusing to glance over her shoulder despite this, Merissa marched into the village airily.

She headed towards one of the smaller shops on the street, passing under a bright yellow, though slightly worn sign that read _Happy Tails Pets: From Niffers to Puffskeins and Everything In Between_. The door jingled as she pushed it open and her friends filed in after her.

The smell hit them before anything else. It was staggering, though not necessarily offensive. It did not smell of excrements, but of the slightly musty warm smell of animals and their habitats. The air was thick with moisture and sawdust, which lined the bottoms of almost all the cages and dusted the floor.

The floor that was visible, that was. Most of the concrete surface was concealed by various types of cages, both full and disturbingly empty. There were cages, in fact in every conceivable spot in the room: hanging from the ceiling, on the floor, on tables, on top of each other and one filled with vibrant orange birds hung out of the window, so they could hop around in the fresh air

"Keep the door closed please," called a frazzled looking woman who was selling a Kneazle to an elated looking boy and his young mother, "If the gnome gets out again I will never hear the end of it."

Kenneth, who had entered last carefully shut the door behind himself. Merissa had already moved into the shop, wasting no time to press herself up against a cage full of small kittens, who were mewing. One came closer as she poked a finger in through the bars, intrigued by the foreign object. Alphard ducked beneath a cage full of irritable pixies who tried to yank at his hair and past a hairless rat scurrying across the floor to come up beside her to see the small furballs and the cautionary sign on the cage that Merissa had ignored.

"It says not to put anything in the cages. Some of them are apparently vicious," he said, eyeing Merissa as she put her face within swiping distance of the cage.

"Nonsense," she said, as she began petting one's tiny head with her extended finger. The tiny black kitten rubbed up against her, making her coo, "What a darling."

Alphard bent down to also examine it. After a moment of watching it coddle Merissa, he hesitantly inserted a finger, which the black kitten immediately scratched. He cursed and withdraw it quickly, blood pooling on his finger tip.

"She's shy, you need to be gentle," she chided, as the kitten returned to her finger expectantly and she began stroking it again.

"It looks like a demon," Alphard said unsurely peering at the kitten, "Aren't they supposed to have blue eyes as babies? Those are black."

"Don't listen to him," she told the tiny creature, "He's colorblind. Your eyes are dark blue, aren't they?"

"They're black," Susan agreed, passing by on her way to look at the owls with Kenneth, "I can't believe you don't have one. They're dead useful and don't have to be fancy," she said, gesturing to a barn owl.

"I'll have to get one, so we can write over the summer about those quidditch matches you and Alphard have. . ."

Their voices faded away as they went deeper into the shop. Merissa looked up from the cage to give Alphard a sly smile, "They're certainly getting along," she noted, "Could almost have been planned."

Merissa had known Kenneth had held Susan in high regard for several years, but given Susan's disinterest with almost everyone at Hogwarts, she had never mentioned it. Now she was thinking perhaps Alphard had the right idea.

"Almost," he agreed, winking at her. She went back to petting the black cat, who responded enthusiastically. It was unclear who was crazier about the other: Merissa about the cat or the cat about Merissa.

"Are you really going to choose this little devil kitty though?" he asked seriously, "All the agonizing hours we've spent in here could have been solved by a black furball?"

"I disapprove of your tone talking about my daughter," Merissa snipped, patting the cat with her index finger again before pulling it back to stand and call the shopkeeper over. As the aging woman climbed over some inconveniently placed cages, the kitten mewed in complaint. Merissa kneeled back down, not minding the sawdust getting on her knees as she did so and gave the kitten a few more strokes.

"I'd like the black one please," Merissa told the woman when she finally reached them, making her eyes widened.

"Black cat on Halloween?" she asked suspiciously, eyeing the pair, "What are you going to do with it?"

"Pet it, feed it, hug it, love it," Merissa replied, irritated to be asked such a ridiculous question, "I'm not going to sacrifice it if that's what you're asking."

"Alright, alright," the woman said tiredly, moving with some difficulty back towards the front counter, "You can never be too careful. I'll give him to you for four galleons since you're taking him off my hands. Most black cats don't find homes, especially this time of year. Superstitious folk don't want them, you see."

Merissa followed her, scowl deepening the further the woman went on. She held her new pet protectively between her hands, as if it would hear the shopkeeper and be offended.

"I'll pay the full five," Merissa insisted, as they reached the front of the shop, which was marginally less crowded. She pulled of the galleons from her bag and placed them on the counter, "She's not a discount cat to me."

"Suit yourself," the woman agreed, seeming to finally take in Merissa's thick cloak and well-made shoes. Merissa shifted uncomfortably. She was not the one who chose such extravagant clothing, yet she still often felt people thought her frivolous for wearing it.

"It's a boy by the way," the woman told Merissa as she wrote her a certificate of ownership, "The only one in the litter."

"A boy," Merissa said with all the adoration of a new mother as she picked up the kitten that was now hers and held it like a baby. Alphard rolled his eyes at her.

"What are you going to name your bouncing baby boy," he sighed, knowing she was waiting for him to ask.

"His name will be Charles, and just for asking, I'm going to name you his godfather," she sang, cradling the cat in her arms where it reclined lazily, looking happy. When Alphard extended a hand, it hissed however and swatted at him.

"Gentle," she repeated, though Alphard was now scowling at the creature. He usually liked cats but was having his doubts about this one now. He picked up the paper for her and thanked the woman as Merissa was too distracted.

"C'mon you two," Alphard called when Susan and Kenneth emerged from the back room, "Merissa got a demon cat and now she's ready to leave."

Merissa huffed at him, but Susan had hurried over and was fawning over the animal as they began to walk outside. The kitten had fallen asleep in one of Merissa's pockets by the time they arrived at the next shop, _Tomes and Scrolls_ , the larger of the two bookstores in the village. Kenneth and Susan were eager to continue onto the sporting goods store across the street, so they left two the pair, talking animatedly about the last match.

Merissa generally made her book purchases in Diagon Alley during the summer, so this shop was unfamiliar to her. Alphard stepped in first, the bell jingling loudly. This shop was much larger than the pet store, however it was just as crowded. The shelves were pressed so close together that one had to turn their shoulders to walk through the aisles, and must have been supported with magic given all the books they were supoprting. The only place to sit were a collection of tables pressed against the walls. Despite this, the place was cheerful and lively and there were a handful of customers scattered throughout the shop. Alphard followed Merissa to their section on defensive magic without batting an eye. Even in the Hogwarts library this was her ritual now.

Merissa began pulling out books and stacking them on an already overcrowded table. She pondered the titles for lengthy periods but ultimately made the decision to buy everyone she laid her eyes on. She figured she really couldn't be overprepared. Though she was getting better under Alphard's patient hand, she knew that Riddle was unlikely to play fairly, so having a few spells up her sleeve seemed like a good idea. Alphard did not comment until the stack was nearly fifteen books high, some of them thicker than _Hogwarts: A History_.

"Do you have that much gold on you Merissa?" he asked, eyeing the growing stack. Some of the books looked rather expensive and she wasn't checking the prices on the back.

"If I don't I can charge it to my account," she shrugged, pulling out _Defend or Be Offended: Complete Guide for Shield and Counter-jinxes._ She glanced over the cover before setting it down on the top of her pile.

"Don't you think your parents will be suspicious of you buying a hundred galleons worth of defensive magic books?" he asked, picking up the book she had just laid down, "I have this one already, you can just use mine."

She frowned down at the stack. It was true that she hadn't given the cost of the books a second thought, not being used to such restrictions. She had withdrawn a few hundred galleons in the beginning of the summer, but there had been a long and hot summer between then and now. Her bag contained only about twenty galleons and ten sickles now, looking slim.

"They would notice even one book on defense, since I'm not allowed to study it any more than strictly necessary for OWLs," she sighed, and started to put the books away.

"I didn't say not to get them," he laughed and scooped up the mighty pile with some difficulty, "I'll just charge it. I am leader of the Dueling Club after all. My parents won't bat an eye at this purchase."

"Al . . ." she began unsurely. While he might have even fewer monetary restrictions than her, him paying for them still put a strange feeling in her throat. She already felt in his debt for all his unwavering support, and this kindness felt like too much.

"Hush," he commanded, "You can donate them to the library after if you insist on feeling so guilty. Just grab that last one - I don't have a hand for it."

Merissa picked up the book and held it against her chest, careful not to bump it against her pet, who was still sound asleep. As they sidestepped back to the front of the shop together to pay for their books, Merissa noticed Davao Rosier lurking in the shadow of one of the shelves, watching them. She gritted her teeth but kept walking. After all, punishing Rosier for following her would do nothing. He probably wanted to be there as much as she wanted him to be.

The book keeper behind the counter was a young witch with pretty copper skin who gave Alphard an overly warm smile as he approached. She smiled up at him from beneath a fringe of dark hair as she asked, "What can I help you with?"

Merissa told herself she must have just imagined the double meaning of the words, but the way Alphard seemed to take an unconscious step forward said otherwise. She scowled.

"Just these," he replied, unloading his armful of books onto the wooden countertop, making it sway under their considerable weight. Merissa stepped forward to add the single book she had been holding onto the top of the pile, though the witch didn't give her a second glance.

"You must be a wonderful reader," the woman complimented, pulling out her records book without asking them any questions. She had almost immediately spotted Alphard's Black family crest ring shining from his middle finger and while the witch may not have known what specific family he belonged to, she knew that he could afford all of these.

"Are you a student?" she asked, writing down the third title and glancing back up to give him another warm smile, "I don't recall these being on any book list. . ."

"They're not," Alphard said, offering her a charming smile in return, "I'm captain of the Dueling Club at Hogwarts."

Merissa felt rather like sinking into the dark shelves at this point, but when she took a step back Alphard noticed at once and ushered her back beside him. She grimaced at him, making him smirk back while the woman, still writing, was obvlious to their exchange.

"How impressive, seventh year then?" the woman questioned eagerly, writing even faster than before. When she looked up again she seemed to see Merissa for the first time and her expression cooled.

"Fifth actually," Alphard corrected quickly, "We both are."

"Oh," the woman said, smile dropping completely. She had little to say for the rest of the interaction, simply scribbling the lengthy titles of the books down rather viciously.

When she had finally finished, she flexed her wrist and looked back up at them, though the interest in her expression was almost completely gone, "How will you be paying for this today?"

"Charge it to Pollux Black," Alphard indifferently, making the woman's eyebrows raise as she scribbled down the name. Her demeanor turned back to pleasant for the remainder of the transaction, but Alphard was no longer interested.

"Would you like them sent to you? Or would you like to take them now?" the witch asked once the books were wrapped neatly in brown paper.

"Err," Merissa glanced over at Alphard who had retreated to the Transfiguration section moodily and was no longer paying attention, "Just send them please," she requested.

The woman nodded and somewhat stiffy handed Merissa a receipt. Alphard looked up, and seeing their purchase was finished, started strowing to the door where Merissa was waiting.

"Charge this one to the same account," he called back to the shopkeeper, waving the book he had taken a liking to in the air, "It's called _Tricks of Transfiguration_."

The woman was still scribbling furiously as they pushed back out into the cold outside air, Alphard chuckling to himself.

"Was that for not flirting with you when she found out you were fifteen or because she started flirting with you again when she recognized your surname?" Merissa asked mildly, surveying his smug expression. She didn't blame him in the least for lashing out, even finding it to be refreshing after becoming accustomed to Abraxas' constant self-restraint.

"Both," he said seriously, "But she'll get her galleons. She just will have to work for it. I didn't give her the author."

"True evil," Merissa laughed as they entered the building labeled _Spintwicthes Sporting Needs_ to extract their friends.

It took almost fifteen minutes to find Susan and Kenneth inside the shop, as it was filled to the brim with a plethora of sporting equipment and even more customers. This season, or at least from what Merissa had heard through Susan, had been a popular year for quidditch, both professional and house teams. Apparently, England had an exceptional team this year and was squashing all competition for the first time in anyone's memory.

"Jones is like an eagle when he hits the sky," Susan was saying animatedly, even as Merissa dragged her from the shop, reminding her over and over how they had agreed to meet Abby, James, and Mary at The Three Broomsticks.

"They'll have Thomas with them too, I'm sure," Susan complained as Merissa lead her outside, only allowing it because Kenneth was walking alongside them. Alphard was physically restraining himself from laughing now, unbeknownst to the pair.

"Probably," Merissa agreed, unable to deny that this made it far less appealing, "But there will also be butterbeer. You can handle it Nigellus," she assured her.

Alphard mentioned a controversial player for England's name, which sparked a heated debate between Susan and Kenneth to no one's surprise. Merissa was finally able to let go of her friend, who was compliantly walking along as the conversation moved.

"Brilliant," Merissa complimented as Alphard came into stride with her.

"Don't thank me yet," he warned, "They won't shut up for the next hour, I assure you. The mere amount of penalties that man has gotten. . ."

The conversation did thoroughly distracted the pair until they reached The Three Broomsticks. They had continued through the doors when they noticed Merissa had stopped just outside.

"Should we go inside with him?" Merissa asked, gesturing to the sleeping creature still tucked away in her pocket Even from outside they could tell it was a busy day at the pub. It would be especially noisy and crowded, not ideal for keeping Charles calm.

"We could make a carrier out of some sticks and see if he likes it?" Kenneth suggested.

Merissa nodded and picked up a few twigs from the ground, turning them into a padded cat taxi with a latch door. Charles, however had other ideas. Upon being awoken, he inserted his claws into Merissa's coat sleeve, unwilling to go inside of the cage. After several attempts it was clear the cat was no going anywhere.

"I can just hold him," Merissa concluded, "He doesn't seem like much of a flight risk."

Alphard looked skeptical, but he opened the door for her anyways. The Three Broomsticks was bustling with students and older witches and wizards. There was even a man with wild black hair, who must have been at least half giant, who to Merissa's astoundment was wearing Hogwarts robes. As Alphard steered her away she managed to make out his house: Gryffindor. She couldn't imagine how she hadn't noticed him before. As they passed the bar, a man with powder blue hair who looked vaguely familiar started over towards them, but Merissa ducked out of his view at the last second when she realized he was a reporter. Her family was no stranger to press because of her father's ambitions and her mother's attendance to high society galas. Merissa had started attending these events herself with Abraxas last spring when she had turned 15. After her own cotillion, she had begun having to dodge the press as well.

"That one is relentless," Alphard whispered to her as he they sat down in a corner table, nodding towards the blue haired man, "He follow me on broom, his cameraman barely hanging onto the back last year after my father's scandal."

Merissa nodded somberly. While the image of Alphard zooming through the air pursued by this flamboyant man was amusing, she had remembered the repercussions of the coverage on the Black family in The Prophet. Fortunately for her, Abraxas had intercepted the man and was now chatting with him as he lead him back to the bar. She couldn't imagine what Abraxas would have to say to this man, but she was not about to question such a lucky escape.

Charles had become restless in her arms, so she let him down onto her lap where he curled up and began purring enthusiastically. Merissa beamed down at him and began rubbing him between his ears. He nearly blended in with her skirt.

She looked up when their butterbeers came and met eyes with Abraxas, who was walking back from his discussion with the reporter to his table. He was seated with Tom, Avery, and Nott on the other side of the pub. The boys all had their heads ducked together, probably listening to Riddle whose mouth was moving incredibly quickly. Merissa shifted on the bench to try to get a better look, hoping to read his lips. No such luck. Avery's oversized head was blocking her view.

But she was never one to give up so easily. There had to be some excuse for her to cross the pub.

She eyes began scanning the adjacent tables, though after just a moment her face broke out into a triumphant smirk. Her ticket in was sitting with Walburga Black and some other Slytherin seventh years. Joseph was looking as grim as ever, no one at his table even smiling. They were sipping their drinks and speaking a few words in between. It was the driest group in the pub, and Merissa couldn't wait to join it.

She had not spoken to Joseph more than a few times since school had started, which was unprecedented, as he was generally scolding her for something every few hours as it reached his ears. This year, he had passed on the torch to Abraxas, who was far less zealous about it. This change seemed to suit Joseph though, as he looked in much better spirits than usual. Still, it felt wrong as a little sister than she hadn't bothered her older brother at all this year, so she started standing up, scooping Charles back into her arms.

"I'll be back," Merissa announced to her table, earning three equally confused stares.

"Abby, James and Mary haven't even shown up yet," Susan stated, as if this should be reason alone for Merissa to sit back down, which it probably should have been. Unfortunately, her preoccupation with Riddle was all consuming.

"Sure," Merissa nodded as she started away, "I'll be back, like I said. I just need to talk to Joseph."

Susan watched her small friend sashay towards the somber Head Boy before turning to Alphard, "What is she doing?" she hissed.

Seeing Merissa in proximity to Riddle made Susan nervous by default lately. It was even more concerning for her to be purposefully positioning herself near him. Of course, neither Susan or Alphard had any idea what the other knew, so he simply shrugged, feigning ignorance.

"Not talking to Joseph, I'm sure," Alphard muttered, half standing up in his seat to see where she was going through the crowd. So far it did look like she was going to Joseph's table, which was somewhat reassuring. Perhaps he could keep himself from intervening today.

"Congratulations, you're an uncle," Merissa greeted her brother as she reached his table, making him look around in wild confusion until he spotted the cat in her arms. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Riddle's table, where Abraxas also seemed to have heard this and glanced up looking confused.

 _Dammit_. She hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself from any of them. Tom had stopped talking and was glowering at her now. There was no way he would say anything else until she was back across the pub. But she had to act like nothing was amiss anyways.

"Alphard is already the godfather, sorry Malfoy," she called, making him look back down in embarrassment. Avery shook his head, grinning and said something to Abraxas that she couldn't hear over the din of the room. Tom just continued to stare, unphased.

Merissa chewed on her lip as she looked back to her brother, who looked about as pleased as a hippogriff caught in a hailstorm.

"That isn't amusing little sister. Mother will be unhappy you bought another animal" Joseph snapped, giving her a condescending glance over, "Why aren't you in your robes?"

"Because its Sunday," she replied cheekily, "Do you want to pet him?"

She extended Charles to him as a peace offering. He put a disinterested hand out and patted the cat on the head once before withdrawing it. She had rather hoped that Charles would be as opposed to Joseph as he was Alphard, but the creature seemed entirely apathetic to his touch.

"Is that all you came here for?" Joseph drawled, though he was still glancing her over. When had she gotten so boney? He couldn't recall.

 _Shit_ she thought desperately. Only a Slytherin would have questioned it either, they were just so suspicious sometimes. He knew she wouldn't seek him out for such a little thing, and Merissa was acutely aware that Tom was still listening.

"It's not every day we get a new member of the family," Merissa qualified, "I thought you'd be more excited to meet Charles."

He didn't look like he believed her.

"Charles? It's a cat," Joseph deadpanned, but he was interrupted by a boisterous laugh.

"Merlin Joseph, don't be such a grump," chided Phillip, coming over and clapping him on the shoulder, which only deepened Joseph's scowl, "Like you said, it a cat."

Avery held out his hands expectantly and Merissa had no choice but to hand Charles over to him incredibly slowly. Once the animal was settled into his grip, he grinned and raised him up in the air as if we were an idol to be worshipped, "Charles Emerson Thorpe," he began in deep vibrato, which was incredibly uncharacteristic to him, "You were born onto this world just another orphan, little did you know you would be adopted by a wealthy family and rise to greatness."

He seemed to be preparing more bizarre dedication, but Merissa took the opportunity to cut him off, "I'll take him back," she said quickly. Something about him had been noticeably off this year, and she would feel much better if her new pet was out of his hands.

He grinned down at her but kept his hands up. Her expression darkened. She hadn't wanted to make a scene, but she certainly would if a scene was needed. Like Alphard had said, Phillip was no longer her friend.

This was not necessary though as a moment later, Avery seemed to think better, seeing her face and returned the cat to her arms.

"He's sweet," he told her earnestly, not wanting to offend her, but she was already in a mood and just gave him a cool smile, turning back to Joseph.

"Warmer greeting that you gave him," she snapped, feigning offence to give her an excuse to retreat to her table.

She didn't glance at Riddle's face until she was back across the room. He was standing up, the rest of his table following suit. As he donned his coat his eyes flashed to hers, quicker than she could hope to look away innocently. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously and upon seeing she had indeed been watching him seemed to confirm whatever theory he had.

Merissa broke his gaze to finally assess her own tables reaction.

Susan, though surely having her own take on what had just happened, was still talking quidditch with Kenneth. Alphard was sipping his butterbeer and pretending to read the Transfiguration book he had purchased today, though he was not moving his eyes but glaring at the middle of the page. Still, they were getting much better and acting as if nothing was amiss for her benefit.

Merissa sighed inaudibly, allowing her shoulders to drop down, though she had not realized she had been clenching them in the first place. Alphard took Charles from her lap and started scratching him behind the ears. He hadn't looked at her since she had sat down, irritated with her for being so reckless. They both glanced up when they heard a commotion at the door between two familiar voices.

"Well obviously you ran into him, coming barreling out of there without looking where you were going!" Abby's soprano carried from the opposite side of pub.

The red-haired girl had her arms crossed in front of her angrily at Tom as Mary helped James back up onto his feet. It seemed Riddle had run over the boy while trying to leave, his goons flanking him. Thomas, who was still holding the door open seemed at a loss, just watching the situation unfold in front of him. Merissa felt slightly light headed seeing her petite friend facing off with Tom Riddle so ferociously, and she evidently was not the only one who had a strong reaction.

Susan was nearly halfway across the room when Merissa had recovered enough to rush after her. Despite this and Susan's ability to part a crowd more easily with her height, Merissa arrived at the site of the incident just moments after.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Susan asked, her calm yet firm voice commanding everyone's attention. Even Tom turned towards her, though this might have been because he found her more threatening than the fiery red head, which was quite short sighted of him. Only one was likely to attack him.

"He knocked into James!" Abby snapped furiously, "And then told _us_ to watch where we were going."

"How rude," Merissa agreed loudly, more partial to Abby's obvious intention to hex him now. Riddle's eyes met her's again and seemed to find their mark. She was the biggest threat now.

"Merissa," Susan muttered, "That isn't helping," and then louder, meaning for Tom to hear her, "Well I'm sure it was an accident on both parts. Nothing to be upset over..."

This was quite amusing, as everyone in both parties had a clear opinion about the situation written on their face. Merissa, Abby and Lestrange were varying forms of furious. Lestrange had even drawn his contraband wand, his own still stashed in under some summer clothing in Merissa's wardrobe. Abby was managing to look considerably larger than usual, her chest puffed out and shoulders straight as she remained challenging Riddle. Alphard, who had just arrived on Merissa's side was exchanging a cold glare with Abraxas, who's chin was poking out just the slightest, though the last thing Merissa would have noticed right now the remnant of herself displayed on him. Avery was visibly anxious eyes darting between Tom and Abby, though his leader seemed dismissive of her aggressive posture now. Susan and Tom may have appeared calm to someone who didn't know them, but Merissa noticed Susan's hand clenching and unclenching from the outline on her skirt pocket where she had tucked the fist away. James' expression was the only one strangely vacant, as Mary propped him up with her arm.

"Now Riddle, as one of your fellow prefects," Thomas began, stepping forward from the door, apparently having finally found himself, "I would classify your response as unprofessional. I feel it is my duty to correct you, as I'm sure neither of us would want this to reflect poorly on Hogwarts or our good families."

Merissa closed her eyes for a moment, making a mental note to buy Thomas a really exceptional Christmas gift. Though he had surely no idea the danger he was putting himself in, his pure obviousness was a blessing. He handled scolding her for being stunned and stopping a provoked probable sociopath with the same steady overconfidence. Riddle's jaw twitched, physically holding back a hex his tongue had just cried out. Merissa could have almost smiled if she were not involved as she recognized why the comment had bit into him. He wouldn't want it to reflect poorly on his muggle parent, whichever one if was. Personally, she rather hoped it was his father, as she could just imagine how detrimental it would be for him, being so convinced of his own genders superiority to receive his magic from his mother only. Of course, she had no idea, as she had never heard anyone mention anything about his family.

The hard line of her mouth wavered slightly, as she became simultaneously more amused and uncomfortable. Tom's eyes darkened as his mouth turned up into an abashed smile. Watching his face shift like this was frightening, whether he intended for it to be or not.

"Of course. I forgot myself Thomas. Thank you for correcting me," he said, extending a hand to the boy.

Edward took it and started shaking it enthusiastically between his own coffee colored hands, "I am always willing to do what it takes to preserve the good title of prefect," he said seriously.

Merissa was unable to hold back her laugh completely at this, though she was not sure whether it was due to humor at Thomas's ignorance or the incredibly stiff way Tom was holding his arm. Edward was moving the entire appendage with his vigorous shakes. Her quiet titter was lost to Edward, but Tom seemed to have heard her.

His eyes flickered to her again, but his face was unreadable this time. She was quick to return to her default state of glaring at him.

"Well," Susan said, also sporting a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "I am glad that was cleared up. Let's be on our way."

Susan smiled at Riddle again as she passed by him and towards the door where she stopped holding it open. Merissa caught on and followed her, linking arms with James as she passed him, as he was looking still a tad shaken. He held onto her arm tightly and she began checking him over at once. If he had so much as a scratch she wasn't sure she could continue to follow Susan's wise example.

"We only just got here," Mary reminded them, still behind and slightly bewildered. She, like most of the school, did not realize the potentially deadly consequences of the cat and mouse game Merissa and Tom where playing.

No one replied. Alphard and Abby followed Merissa towards to door just as Susan managed to escape outside. Inside, it was growing more crowded by the moment. Hardly anyone seemed to have noticed them. The encounter, though seemingly lengthy for those involved, had only lasted about a minute.

"C'mon Mary," Abby called, as she also reached the door. The rest of the group was already outside, heading up the winding path to the castle. Mary scoffed by hurried after her.

As the door swung closed behind the blonde, Tom was left alone with his entourage, still furious and a bit rattled, though he would never admit it. She was actively seeking out information now, just as he had been. It was only a matter of time before she dug something up, and he had a fair guess what the first thing would be.

If she didn't already know he was half-blood, she would by the end of the week if he did nothing. Luckily, he was Riddle and doing nothing was unacceptable. He'd be damned if she found out that secret, yet alone the more serious ones. His large ring glinted up at him, reminding him of how much his secrets cost him.

"Well," he snapped, gesturing towards the door, "Weren't we leaving?"

To no one's surprise, Abraxas was the first to the door, holding it open for Riddle to stalk through into the crisp autumn air.

Thomas was the last involved to be left in the pub, forgotten even by Abby. Considerably more unobservant than the normal person, he had no idea what to make of what happened. Once the last of Riddle's group had departed, he shrugged to himself and sat down at the bar, alone. Maybe they had a disagreement about how to interpret a prefect duty. He would be sure to clarify to Merissa tomorrow. Pleased with his plan, he ordered a butterbeer.

When Meriisa and company made it into the castle, seemingly hours later, Alphard excused himself to go practice in the Merrythoughts now frequently used office with Kenneth. He said he was preparing for an upcoming dueling match, though half of his audience distinctly recalled that the Dueling Club wasn't competing anywhere until after Christmas break. As he departed, Susan and Abby began chatting, Mary joining them, happy to cling to the only normal part of the day for her so far. Merissa and James were still walking alongside each other making it easy for her to slow their pace, making them fall behind their friends.

"Are you alright?" Merissa muttered to James as Susan let out a loud, strained laugh, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," James said slowly, though his eyes seemed to shift over the castle walls, almost as if he were looking for something on them as he spoke. She knew it was not as simple as just no.

She waited, knowing he was not purposefully suspending her, but simply searching for words as he so often did. Merissa began matching his steps as he looked in danger of falling over, his expression became more distant. Being almost the same height as him, she thought she might also have a chance of supporting him if he did.

"You should be more worried about what he might do to you Merissa," he finally said.

She blinked back at him in irritation. What was that supposed to mean? She _was_ worried. So worried in fact, that some recent nights she hadn't slept. The worry ate at her, day, and night and even in her dreams. There was no time for his riddles today.

Her mood continued in this trajectory, even throughout the fantastic Halloween feast, which she barely touched. Every time a new Slytherin would sit down, she would jump, though she was not sure if it was because she dreaded seeing Riddle or hoped to see Alphard. Kenneth entered about five minutes late, but with no sign of his dueling captain. When neither showed up, even a half hour in, she knew they wouldn't be coming. James also seemed apprehensive, his eyes jumping to the table nearly as often as hers did.

"What is up with him?" Merissa finally whispered to Abby, his jumpiness giving her second-hand anxiety on top of her own.

Abby bit the inside of her lip, looking across the table at James, who had just jolted his head towards the Slytherin table again as if he had a tick.

"Well you know how he gets some wild ideas sometimes, because of his sickness," Abby murmured back, her voice masked from his ears by the din of the table, "He warned me something was going to happen if you didn't stop, and he said you wouldn't listen. I wouldn't think anything of it; he's so convinced of these things and they never happen-"

"What is supposed to happen?" Merissa demanded. Abby didn't answer but continued to bite her lip and look down, "What Abby?"

"I - I don't know," she admitted, "He has trouble putting them into words. Only that it wasn't good . . . and it involved you - No Re!" she cried as Merissa leaped up onto her feet.

Merissa didn't listen, already having escaped halfway across the hall. She broke into a run once she reached the lonely stairs. Everyone was at dinner after all, there was no one to see her panic.

 _Almost everyone,_ she thought as the air seared her throat, making it to the fourth floor in a record time she could never hope to beat. She couldn't stand around and let things go their own pace anymore. The uncertainty ended tonight - either she could, or she couldn't.

She burst through the doors, finding it hard to be sorry as her sudden intrusion made him nearly topple off the desk he was lying across, enchanting the ceiling with silver swirls that lasted only moments. His magic was beautiful, but she couldn't be distracted by that now.

"Alphard," she gasped, "I need you to duel me."

He laughed uncomfortably, pushing himself off the desk to stand, "Isn't that what we've been doing?"

"No," she replied, already shoving the desks aside to clear them a space. This not moving quite fast enough for her, she started shoving them back telepathically, with flicks of her wrists. Alphard moved back hastily, not wishing to be in her path.

"You're not going to follow the proper guidelines. There won't be any easy back and forth. You won't tell me what you're going to do first. You're going to duel me, really duel me, like you want to win," she said breathily.

"Okay," he agreed, edging around a table to the clearing she was still enlarging, "So you do realize I am going to beat you every time? I'm not trying to be a prat, Re. But I'm much better than you."

She grinned, the space finally large enough for her liking, turning to him at last, "That's kind of the point isn't it? We're going to duel for as long it takes."

"As long as it takes to do what?" he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. She had a maniacal gleam in her eyes that he had never seen before. She wasn't scared; that's all he could tell.

"Until I win," she said, leveling her wand with his chest. He hesitated, so she snapped, "Are you in or are you in?"

He stared at her a long time before answering with just one word.

" _Expelliarmus."_

She rolled to dodge his spell, as it had taken her off guard. Her face nearly on the floor, she slowly grinned. He was all in.


	12. Late Night Dwellers

**Hello! Admittedly, I had planned to post on Thursday this week, so I am late in that regard. On the other hand, I would like to defend that as I am on Pacific time, it is in fact still Friday for another hour here, so please don't hate me. I plan on posting again within the week and will be replying to all reviews in that update.**

 **Thank you for all who have been favoriting, following and reviewing. It brightens my day so much whenever I see a new notification. I am glad I have found such a kind and supportive community to express myself in.**

 **As always, enjoy!**

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November 1st, 1942

"It's four in the morning Re," Alphard said softly, offering her a hand, as he had just knocked her to the ground, effectively disarming her for what must have been the hundredth time this evening.

She ignored his hand, springing back up to start throwing spells at him again. He deflected the ones that came close to him, which was not the majority due to her exhaustion and was able to throw back a counter, which knocked her back again.

"And I'm about as close to beating you as I was when I started," she snapped, leaning against the desk to catch her breath. He made to move towards her but she pointed her wand at him, and sent a weak jet of yellow light in his direction, annoyed that he hadn't continued to fight her.

"You're much better than you were," he argued, deciding it was safer to lean against a desk on the opposite side of the clearing rather than beside her. She was so tired that she might actually hit him on of these times.

She gave him a nasty look and tried firing another spell. It sputtered out of her wand and fell short a few feet from him. Groaning, she pushed herself off the desk to stand again, pointing her wand at him. Her magic itself was losing its energy as she allowed herself to become drowsy.

" _Stupefy_ ," she croaked, her voice raw from overuse.

To her own amazement, the spell hit right on target, the red stream of light hitting Alphard's chest and knocking him backwards onto the ground. She stared at him for a moment, wondering what kind of trick he was playing on her. When he didn't pop his head up grinning she inched closer, still sure this must have been a joke. After all, he hadn't even been concerned enough to put up a shield charm. She was rubbish. She never hit him.

Reaching him, she knelt down to shake his shoulder violently, from which she received no response. He was really out, she had stunned him!

The elation lasted only another moment before she realized she had no idea how to revive him. When she had been stunned, she had slept it off for almost a day, but they did not have the luxury of time. Merrythought would be back by morning to open the classroom for the weekly faculty meeting as she did on Sunday's. Essentially, this gave Merissa less than an hour to remove all evidence of their practice from this room, Alphard being the most difficult artifact to extract now. Even the caretaker, though notoriously lenient, would have trouble understanding what a prefect was doing dragging an unconscious body to the Slytherin common rooms in the dead of night.

Merissa stood up to run her hands down the shelves behind the professor's desk, finding nothing but specimens of dark creatures floating lazily in their jars. Though she was sure the pungent smell of one of those opened under his nose would have been enough to arouse him, she wanted to be kinder to her dueling teacher if possible. She glanced back at him, still on the ground. He looked incredibly peaceful like this, the only expression left on his face being the slight elevation of his eyebrows as he had realized the spell was going to hit him, a moment after he could have responded.

 _Nitwit_ she thought fondly, turning back around to scan the next row of shelves. He should have known she would eventually hit him, skills beside. He was just far too trusting with her.

A loud bang broke her from her search, and she realized with horror she had thoughtlessly brushed against a dueling dummy, knocking it over. It crashed on the floor, echoing and making her wince with every repetition of the sound against her ears. If she wasn't already under a time restraint, she certainly was now. There was no telling who would come to investigate the source of the noise. Hurrying to the next wall, she found herself before the cabinet she had blasted the leg off of just week prior. Perhaps the professor kept something useful in here. Merissa opened it swiftly and found it to be empty. That was odd. Why was Merrythought keeping an empty cabinet in her classroom? It was crowded enough without frivolous clutter. Merissa ran her hand down the inside of the door, finding nothing amiss with it.

Behind her, the door creaked opened causing her to curse under her breath. Her curiosity had cost her precious moments, and now she was surely caught. Turning slowly, she found it was not any professor but Abraxas peering at her from the doorway. The silence was thick for several moments - minutes maybe. He seemed to be taking it in.

Merissa was pressed up against the dark, crooked cabinet as if she hoped to disappear into it. The wooden, human-shaped target was sprawled on the floor alongside Alphard, who was still dead to the world. Abraxas himself was pale, though Merissa was unsure whether it was from surprise or because this was his new sickly color. In reality, it was both.

But what was he doing here at this hour? While Slytherin parties were known to run late, he was stories and stories too high up in the castle for this explanation. And Abraxas was hardly one to risk explustion for a late night stroll. But neither gave their secrets away as they stood staring at each other, as if they had never met.

"The smelling salts are in the far shelf, on the right," he finally said, nodding towards the wall farthest from Merissa.

She nodded curtly but did not move in case this was a trick to make her turn her back to him. How would he know this anyways? He wasn't part of the Dueling Club. Her back was still plastered against the dark wood of the cabinet, and his to the door. Her gaze was steady, but his eyes twitched to Alphard again.

"Is he. . .?" he trailed off and she felt rather like rolling her eyes despite the tension. Of course he would have to ask, given how much time he spent with Riddle.

"Stunned," she snapped, slightly offended he considered anything differently. After all, he was the one who had changed, not her.

"Ah," he commented.

The seconds ticked on.

"I suppose it would be futile to ask that you didn't mention this to Riddle," Merissa guessed, sidestepping towards the shelf he had indicated to retrieve a jar of the pastel colored crystals. She was still wary that this was a trap, though he had been honest about the location of the salts, at the very least.

He stared at her for the longest moment since. Growing tired of the silence, she moved forward and began propping up Alphard's head on her lap so she could position his nose above the highly perfumed jar.

"Probably," he agreed

Merissa scowled at this. While she hadn't been expecting him to agree, she had to admit that when he did not yell for a professor the moment he saw her out of bed she had felt a glimmer of a hope that he might still harbor some positive feelings for her. It seemed more likely now that he just wished to avoid getting in trouble himself.

"Good night then Malfoy," she said frostily, coaxing Alphard awake by swirling the jar beneath his jaw. The dark haired boy let out a soft groan and pushed the jar away with a uncoordinated hand.

She didn't see Abraxas slip out, but by the time Alphard opened his eyes, he was gone. Alphard's dazed hazel eyes drifted around as he came to. She unconsciously began stroking his hair, his head still in her lap.

"Merissa?" he asked, finally focusing on her face.

"Hey Al," she said softly, "Sorry, I hit you pretty hard."

She became aware of her hand, currently entwined with the ends of his hair. She removed it, hoping he was still too disoriented to have noticed.

She feared this might not be the case as he looked up at her warmly. She laughed and scooted back so he was supporting his own head. He sat up, smiling despite her slight.

"You stunned me?" he asked. She nodded sheepishly and he let out a deep chortle, "Bloody brilliant," he grinned.

"Thanks," she said, helping him up, "But we need to leave. It's far too late and I - er- may have made some noise earlier. . ." she nodded towards the sprawled dummy as she tugged him from the room.

"Poor bloke, what did he ever do to you?" he joked, nudging the figure with his toe.

"Alphard!" she hissed, no longer visible from the now darkened exit.

He smirked and followed her into the dim corridor. Even as they attempted to tiptoe down the hall, their feet made loud taps against the stone. They crept at first, but soon found the castle was quiet. Even professors, it seemed, were asleep at this hour.

"I should walk you -" Alphard began but Merissa cut him off, irritated by his lack of practicality.

"Twice as loud, and you'd have to walk back," she reminded him, her voice hushed, "I'll be fine. I can duel now, after all."

Even without enough light to see his face, she was sure he was scowling at her. She gave his arm one last squeeze and began the long ascent up to the Ravenclaw tower, pausing only once when she thought she had heard something. Thinking it safer, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself as she began to walk again, now on the last flight of stairs before the tightly wound spiral staircase that led to the entrance of the common room. Even without towing Alphard around it would be difficult for her to explain why she was out of bed. Even prefects were hardly allowed such freedoms.

When she had just reached the landing, she heard the sound she had been dreading since departing on her expedition - footsteps. Ducking into the shadows, she forced her breaths to quiet, which was difficult given how quickly she had been climbing the steps. She had begun creeping up the stairs when a familiar voice stopped her dead.

"Be quiet Lestrange!" it hissed, "Or you might as well wake up the entire castle with your thundering footsteps. I will not be caught because of your inability to balance."

"Yes my Lord," a gruffer voice agreed.

Merissa took one step back down and leaned forward, keeping a firm grip on the bannister so she could peer out into the hall where the voice were coming from without leaving the safety of her hiding place. She hadn't had time to check how effective her charm had been, so she decided it would be safest to assume she was somewhat visible.

Three figures were making their way down the stairs, a tall dark one leading a slightly taller white blond (who she immediately recognized as Abraxas of course) and a stockier boy with a beast-like gait. Lestrange.

Their leader slunk like a large jungle cat without a whisper of noise coming from his footfalls. In her exhausted delirium it seemed possible that his feet were not actually touching the ground, but that he was floating along a few inches from the ground. Riddle.

As he passed by her, his movement pushed a slight breeze in her direction making her shudder. The air was colder now that it had been just a moment ago. Perhaps he really did suck the life from a room as James had suggested.

James. . .

She was certainly frightened now as she remembered his warning. Though she took little faith generally in premonitions, James was at the very least perceptive. She would be a fool to ignore his advice.

Riddle had already begun down the stairs when Lestrange stopped, a few mere feet away from her and took in a long breath through his nose. Horrified, she remembered she had liberally applied perfume before leaving for Hogsmeade this morning. Apparently the notes of jasmine, bergamot and vanilla were still surrounding her and Lestrange had noticed.

Merissa pressed herself against the wall, clinging onto the banister for dear life. Her arms were fatigued from holding herself up, but she refused to budge an inch. He was close enough to hear anything.

"Do you smell that?" Lestrange asked the blond, stopping him from following after Riddle with a firm hand to his chest.

Abraxas looked annoyed that he had touched him. Though they were similar in many ways, especially in regards to Riddle's favor, neither had ever been too found of the other. Lestrange was of the opinion Malfoy was too soft, and Malfoy accordingly thought Lestrange was too brutish.

"No," he hissed, trying to move forward again, "I don't _smell_ anything."

Tom had stopped on the stairs, looking furious at the hold up. He crossed his arms and glared expectantly at them, but Lestrange was caught up in the hunt and failed to notice. Abraxas was nervous - she could tell even from here. He had not been back in Riddle's graces for long and still walked on eggshells around his master.

Lestrange yanked Malfoy forward, nearly holding him in a chokehold and pushing him towards the spiral stairs. Abraxas was livid and opened his mouth to demand he unhand him, but Lestrange growled, "Actually give it a sniff and tell me that."

Abraxas inhaled sharply and Merissa watched as his face broke into an expression she had no name for, eyes turning almost exactly towards her. She stopped breathing at once, deciding oxygen was far less important than discovery. There was no one awake to put a thing between her and Riddle, who was already enraged to be kept waiting by his two most faithful followers. She could only imagine his fury if he thought that she had been spying on him.

Abraxas turned back to Lestrange and sneered, "The only thing I smell is your disgusting body odor."

Merissa could have sighed in relief if she were not still holding her breath. It seemed he had really erased her from his heart if he no longer could identify her scent, which while somewhat melochally to consider, was a great triumph in this situation. Still, Lestrange lingered at the base of the steps, leering up them at her.

"I will not hesitate to hex your nose off of your face if it costs us another second," Tom seethed, hardly able to contain his voice to a whisper any longer, " Abraxas already checked down here when you thought you heard something, and there was nothing, as usual." Lestrange gave one more glare in her general direction before rushing down the steps after Riddle. Abraxas was already alongside him, moving quickly as the light became more and more gray, signaling the beginning of another day.

Merissa found she could move again a few minutes after the sound of their footfalls had faded away. She breathed deeply, finding her body aching from the trials she had put it through in the last few hours. She climbed the rest of the stairs and soon found herself in her bed, enwrapped in forgiving sleep.

Back in the depths of the dungeon, Alphard watched at the first rays of dawn began to break through the green murky water of the Black Lake. He hadn't hoped to sleep, as upon arrival to his room he noticed that two beds in his dormitory were empty. He had rushed to peep into the sixth year room, which, as he suspected, was also missing a member. The disheveled bed of Lestrange was vacant. Returning to his room, Alphard sat in the darkness of his drawn chambers, not bothering to attempt sleep until his dorm mates had returned.

They came in just as the sun crested over the water, the light changing from a dim green glow to brighter yellow beams. They said nothing coming in, simply moved to their beds and fell asleep. Even with the familiar accompaniment of Lestrange's snoring through the wall, no rest came to Alphard, as he laid staring at the canopy and the swinging lanterns, moved by the weight of the ebb and flow of the water above.

After what he guessed was a half hour, his hangings were ripped open, exposing him the the muted light of the morning. Abraxas glared at him, as was customary now, before silently ushering him to follow, opening the door out to the common room. Alphard glowerd back, but shadowed the blond out the door anyways.

Abraxas continued outside into the maze of corridors that made up the dungeons before turning abruptly to face Alphard, a grim look on his face.

"What is this about?" Alphard demanded, "I'm a bit tired being woken so early Malfoy."

As if he hadn't seen Alphard had been wide awake.

"You're a bit tired from your session with Merissa you mean," Abraxas countered, leaning back against a fearsome looking gargoyle.

Alphard's eyes narrowed as he took up a stance of similar nonchalance, "I don't recall."

Abraxas was bored with this banter and began picking at his nails. Alphard would undoubtedly deny this for her sake for a long as possible. Alphard had considered Merissa one of his greatest (and only) friends since childhood, and the deepening of his feelings in recent years had done little to heighten his sensibility when it came to matters where she was involved. He would die before betraying her trust, though this was not necessary. Abraxas had known about their meeting for weeks now, as he too had been lurking around the castle at odd hours.

"You wouldn't as you were unconscious at the time," he drawled, not looking up from his manicure.

Alphard crossed his arms defensively but said nothing. His heart was racing however. If Abraxas knew, then Riddle must have as well and if Riddle knew. . .

The only thing Alphard had clung to for purposes of convincing himself of her safety was that she had at least one advantage if cornered - that being Tom's ignorance to her recent trainings. With this gone Alphard doubted he would ever be able to allow her by herself again.

Abraxas grew impatient of his silence, "I can't believe you let her go off on her own, again. It was another close call tonight, and if I hadn't been there to throw them off -"

"Why bother Malfoy?" Alphard jeered, "You seems plenty ready off her yourself. If I hadn't been so busy lately making sure she didn't get killed, I certainly would have tried on you."

"Your threats, though surely terrifying, are, as always, misdirected," Abraxas said, unmoved by his declarations, "Who do you think has been convincing Riddle that your meetings are nothing more than sneaking off to have a romp?" Alphard opened his mouth angrily, "Would you prefer I told him the truth?" Abraxas demanded.

Alphard shut his mouth into a hard line before muttering, "No. But you could have come up with a reason less damaging to her character. You are cold to her, even without interacting."

"That is what you are concerned of?" Abraxas demanded, pinching the bridge of his nose, "If this ends badly I am sure it will be more due to your reckless adoration of her than my practicality on the manner."

Alphard truly hated him for that. He never knew anyone who could be so distant from a situation with such high stakes, except of course Riddle. He was arrogant as well, believing he acted so wisely. Worst of all though, Abraxas was right. Alphard knew he would never been able to approach situations with Merissa without bias. If damage came at the expense of the greater good, he by himself would never be able to accept it - but Malfoy could, because while Malfoy loved her, he was not in love with her.

"I suppose you want me to help you," Alphard finally said, allowing his pride to sink, if only for this once. Malfoy had the inside view that he so desperately needed, and the level head if he was to admit it, which he would rather not.

"Nonsense, you need _me_ to help _you_ ," Abraxas smirked.

He couldn't argue with him there either.


	13. Gaunt Blood

**Hey guys! Another chapter for you, early because I've been so awful at getting it done by Friday. I do plan on updating again this weekend, but even the best laid plans so on and so forth. Things are heating up though, so I will do my best not to leave you all on any cliffhangers. Please note that some time had passed in the story since chapter twelve.**

 **Enjoy!**

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November 20th, 1942

Merissa had a bad feeling from the moment she woke up - not that anything was off to give her reason. She was roused by the nudging of Charles, mewing to inform her that his bowl was empty. She rose and filled it, still functionally asleep. Her new pet seemed intent on quadrupling his size before the month was done and had been consuming everything he could find. No mouse was safe in Ravenclaw tower, and a fair amount had ended up on Merissa's pillow to her great displeasure.

When she returned to her bed, she found Abraxas had sent yet another lavish bouquet (as she was still ignoring him), so she moved it onto Abby's bedside table, as she had been for weeks now. There was hardly any room left, as the vases from the last few days had accumulated making a sparkling arrangement of crystal glass. Abby enjoyed them, so that was good enough for her. There was no sense in vanishing them just because she wouldn't have them on her table. They were certainly expensive after all.

Merissa tiptoed around the room, putting extra ink pots and quills inside of her bag. Correction: she had almost no reason to feel wary. Merissa had been victim to a quite unfortunate bout of luck in the past few weeks. When she went to dip her quill in her ink, the ink would be dry, even if it was brand new. When she would put her quill to her parchment, it would crack in two, not matter how expensive a bird it came from. Her shoes came unbuckled, her desk wobbled and her bag ripped in half almost every day. Even more curious was that once made impenetrable to magic, these items became as dependable as ever.

While she had no evidence one way or another, she certainly had a hunch who it was, particularly as her classes with the Slytherins were much more ridden with misfortune than others.

The tinkling of the inwells made Abby blink her eyes sleepily towards her, spotting the new flowers as well. Her friend laughed groggily, "When I leave I smell like roses."

It was true. The entire room had become perfused with a rich floral smell for the last few weeks. With the bad weather, they hadn't been able to open the windows either, so the scent would surely linger long after the flowers stopped coming, which Merissa hoped was soon.

"Me too, and I never thought I would detest it," Merissa joked, running a brush through her hair hurriedly, "Do we have any papers due today?"

Perhaps, this feeling was due to something she had overlooked academically. It seemed unlikely, given how much time she was pouring into her classes, but she was willing for any explanation that didn't involve Riddle. While she had been practicing with Alphard more than ever, (and improving greatly due to her insistent he didn't hold back with her) the thought of another ambush was still hanging in the back of her mind like an unpleasant taste on the tongue.

"No, Herbology was yesterday and Defense was the day before, dont remind me," Susan called from her other side, cracking her hangings open, " Unless you have anything for Arithmancy or that research class you're going to now, us peasants wouldn't know about that."

Merissa shook her head, not registering the joke, "I'm just trying to figure out why I'm so nervous."

She glanced at the grandfather clock that lay in the corner of their dormitory and found she would again be at the mercy of Jame's ability to swindle toast from the kitchens. There was no time to stop in the Great Hall for breakfast before heading out into the grounds to try and figure out what exactly she would be doing her project on. The rest of her class had selected a topic, but she had been far too distracted lately.

She slipped the silver whistle which Merrythought had provided everyone in the class onto her neck, alongside her pedant, which had become a staple of her wardrobe. She liked it after all, and even more importantly, she knew it drove Riddle mad. He spent almost as much time glaring at the small blue stone than he did at her.

Susan poked her head out of her bed to look at Merissa. Susan, Abby and Mary all had over and hour still to lay in bed, as classes for them did not begin until nine o'clock, however they had taken to waking up to bid Merissa goodbye, and then she assumed, went back to sleep until eight.

"Maybe you're nervous because Alphard keeps hinting he wants to take you to skip your family trip this Christmas and join his family in Switzerland," Susan said slyly, "And that you keep laughing it off instead of giving him an answer."

"No, it's not that," Merissa groaned, "And I can't just go with him, he knows that! I'm spoken for. That would be highly inappropriate."

"Are you still spoken for if you don't speak to the person who is apparently speaking for you?" Susan asked innocently.

Merissa's reflection gave her a wuthering glare from the mirror as she pulled back her hair into a loose bun.

"You really haven't been putting in much effort lately, have you Re," asked Abby, looking concerned as her friend adjusted the lapis lazuli around her neck, not bothering to tie her tie, but just slingling it haphazardly on her shoulders, "Your curlers are collecting dust - same necklace and bun everyday this week. You still haven't told us who gave you it, and I know it wasn't Alphard because he's been bugging me about it too. I think that's why he hasn't outright asked you about the holidays."

"I think it's because Alphard is a proper pureblood who understands what the word _betrothed_ means," Merissa snarked, pulling her shoes on without unbuckling them, "No time for styling anyways - I have class and then I'm eating breakfast in the library again during my free period."

She left both her friends muttering complaints that she didn't really listen to. She hadn't been too focused on them the last few weeks if she was honest. She was too caught up in all the strange occurrences that were happening around her.

She met James in the common room as she had been every morning when they had class together. As usual, he had charred toast and apple butter waiting for her.

"You're brilliant," she told him earnestly through a mouthful as they began descending the stairs, "I probably would have dropped dead if it weren't for you."

She watched his expression sidelong to see if it would give anything away. She had been purposefully inserting comments that could be taken as relating to whatever he had thought would happen to her for weeks. He still hadn't reacted to them, to her disappointment. Of course, she could always outright ask him, but she didn't want him to think she had been letting it worry her, which had been.

Today seemed to be more of the same as he shrugged and said, "Food sustains the body as knowledge sustains the soul."

She sighed in defeat. Apparently she was only getting aphorisms today. As they walked, her shoulder twinged and she began to rub it gingerly. Getting nowhere enough sleep had not only decreased her ability think clearly, it was beginning to take a toll on her body. She felt like she had aged years, but hadn't gained any wisdom to compensate. Nearly a month had gone by and she still had no idea what Riddle was up to.

Though, with some sleuthing around, she had managed to learn that he was certainly up to something. He had his minions in various peculiar places throughout the castle, though the most common location was on the seventh floor, pacing in the corridor that contained the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. They would pace three times in front of a seemingly blank wall, muttering something to themselves that she could never make out. Then, a door would appear on the wall just long enough for whoever was pacing to walk through. Every time, she would race up, but the door would be gone. It was driving her as mad as Barnabas, who watched her struggle in vain to find the door with a smirk. The only help he offered was occasionally spouting ludicrous riddles at her.

"You must want to find more than find what you want!" the sewn man chided her as she stabbed her wand ferociously at the wall, hissing every incantation she could think of.

"What does that mean?" she demanded, throwing up her hands in frustration to turn to him.

"If you need ask, you will never know," he said knowingly, which was one of his favorite lines, and almost always the one that caused her to give up and stomp back down the stairs.

Maybe this was why she had no patience for James' words today. Like the meaningless banter from the tapestry, it did nothing to help her, at least not in this half zombie state of hers.

It had occurred to her that she could ask Alphard for help breaking into whatever meeting place this was, but ultimately decided he was involved enough helping her practice dueling. Anymore favors would tell him all too much about what she was doing, as she had no idea he was conspiring with Abraxas and knew more than even she did.

Nevertheless, Alphard did have his hands full anyways, between quidditch, secretly meeting with Abraxas and their lessons. She was even getting reasonable now, so he couldn't be so lazy when practicing with her.

Merissa found she was too caught up in her own thoughts to listen to Professor Merrythought's usual speech on safety as they stood down on the grass in front of the Dark Forest. This was no real loss, as she gave the same speech every class before she allowed them to leave. Even Edmund Young, the standoffish Hufflepuff, standing as far as physically possible from her while still in the circle of students did not bother Merissa today.

The old professor's eyes were stern on the pair of Gryffindors in the class, and Merissa guessed she had probably just reminded them that with the new whistles around their necks, she would know if they went too deep into the woods. Alex Prince, the approachable Gryffindor, in particular had certainly taken advantage of the weeks before the location devices had arrived to explore the forest. Merissa personally thought anyone who went more than a kilometer beyond the treeline was completely mental. There were more than just rumors of an aggressive herd of centaurs living there, not to mention the inhabitants people only whispered about.

During mornings like these when they were let loose on the grounds, Merissa would find herself just far enough in the forest to be unseen, practicing defensive magic under her breath and occasionally stunning trees (not that this did anything). Practice on stationary targets was still useful, but she knew she needed another person to really practice properly. However, she was hardly about to ask James to play guinea pig with her though, especially since she was fairly sure he was even worse at dueling than she was. So the trees it was then.

" _Stupefy_ " she muttered, directing a stream of red towards the thick base of an oak where it was absorbed, creating a small shock wave in the surrounding soil.

A bright red haired head she recognized as Alex's peered from several trees away, grinning when he saw it had just been her who caused to disturbance. He looked rather like a lion as he had grown out his scruff over the past month.

"Doing okay Thorpe?" he whispered, probably not wanting to frighten away any animals - or attract any attention from their professor for that matter. He looked suspiciously like he had been trying to remove his whistle and set it on a tree so he could slip into the deeper forest, undetected.

She gave him a thumbs in response and he dipped his head and went back to his task, "Hey Prince," she hissed, making him bob his head back into view, "You need to put it on something moving. Merrythought's going to see you haven't budged in twenty minutes and get suspicious."

He gave her a enthusiastic nod and disappeared again, probably to find a deer to sling the whistle onto. She'd have to ask him what was so fascinating in the deep of the woods one of these days.

For now, she was contented at hitting another burly pine with a spell that shook it all the way up to the top branches, causing a rain of needles to fall onto her.

She smirked, brushing herself off. Most times now, when she hit her target it went well. There were fewer and fewer malfunctions with everything except aim. Needless to say, it still made her awful not being able to hit anything that so much as swayed, but she was not nearly as dreadful as she had been.

Admittedly, her target practice probably had a lot to do with why she had failed to spot almost any magical creatures since her first day. Even when she was simply walking through the trees, everything seemed to be tucked away in hiding. Maybe the trees had whispered to the bowtruckles about her abuse, she thought as she glanced towards the higher branches hoping to spy one. There was only the leaves and twigs, trapped within each other as the forest lost its green to the chill of autumn.

She stomped back out of the forest, exasperated when she heard Merrythought calling them back. Another hour was wasted, and now she needed to knick some food from the kitchens and head to the library to immerse herself in her regular hour of defensive magic studies. Between her practices with Alphard and this she had begun to truly impress Merrythought in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which in the past was her worst class.

This in mind, she decided to head straight to the library, figuring whatever meals she skipped that her friends didn't know about wouldn't hurt her. She had almost made it to the entrance when she was yanked into a familiar room. She looked up coldly at Riddle, his arm already resting against the door behind her.

"Nice try, we've already done this," she snarked, "Should we skip to the part when I shock you. . ." she trailed off looking him over.

Not only were his robes covering all of his arm, he was wearing thick leather gloves that disappeared under his sleeves, ending somewhere near his elbow, she guessed. Not a patch of his light skin was exposed, other than his face.

"You know, fascinating thing about that trick of yours, only works with bare skin right?" she glowered up at him, which was affirmation enough for him to continue, "Nice for the kind of attacks most men would want against you, but my interests couldn't be further from that."

"Okay," she said carefully, "You talked to Malfoy. I really should have anticipated that. I've already proven that's not the only kind of magic I'm adept at though, so-"

"I have no reason to duel you at the moment Thorpe, though I'd be intrigued to hear what else you have to say about that," he loomed over her, but she refused to flinch, "First, if you could answer just a little question: how are you wearing that damned bloody necklace?" he hissed.

She was not impressed, "I removed the hex, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed, "How?"

In her mind, Merissa was racing through the various forms of physical self defense she knew. Although her own official education at home had never provided her with such knowledge, she had snuck into a fair amount of Muggle picture shows with Alphard and she had seen women warding off unwanted attention in some. There was slapping of course, but she doubted she could hit Riddle hard enough to really throw him off. In one rather raunchy one, she had seen a woman knee a man in the loin, and that had worked well for her. That wasn't just a Muggle thing right? She wasn't sure.

She realized he was still glaring at her, waiting for a response, so she ripped her eyes away from his trousers.

"With the counter curse," she deadpanned.

His face twitched in anger but he managed to stay composed, "I find it very hard to believe that a little twit like yourself managed to find a counter curse to the spell I created myself. I too have been looking for it in vain. And I know one thing - that is that you are not more talented than I."

Merissa flexed her hand furiously, feeling how easily the energy was seeping into her flesh. He was so arrogant; she didn't know how she had ever mistaken it for innocent pompousness before. Here he was, wearing leather armor against her magic, and he still had the gall not only to say, but to believe that he was more powerful.

Still, she reminded herself, she didn't know what he was capable of just as much as he didn't know what she was capable of. It was smarter - wiser even - to avoid putting all of her cards on the table before she knew his. Even if her pride disagreed.

"Yes, well, everytime we confront each other we determine another thing that you do not know, Riddle, so," she sneered at him, "If you don't mind, I'm going to the library."

"No, you are not," he said blocking her way easily, "Who helped you? Was it those Ravenclaw friends of yours? Or Black - you two are awfully chummy these days."

"Nobody helped me!" she snarled, her hands burning even herself now, "I would never involve my friends in this. They don't even know who this is from," she brandished the stone at him.

"Fine. Keep your secrets. I do not need your cooperation to find out," he took out his wand and made to put it to her temple.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I'd like to see you try, Riddle. I've been practicing occlumency since I was _seven_ ," she allowed her lip to curl unpleasantly, "I would wager you didn't even have a word for what you were at that age, huh Riddle?" his eyes flashed, a warning which she ignored.

"Yea, 'Riddle' is no wizarding surname," she continued, "I was surprised really, that I didn't realize immediately. You just acted so much like you had a reason to believe you were better than everyone else, I just figured you actually had one. But instead, you're just a nobody halfblood with the pridefulness of -"

He seemed to forget his wand, pushing her against the wall by her trachea, making her gasp for air almost at once, "I might be a halfblood, but do you see this ring, Thorpe?" he flashed the gold in front of her eyes, so close that he almost hit her with the black stone as her eyes attempted to focus on it, "It's a Gaunt family heirloom, passed down to me, functionally at least. Surely, with all your mother's prepping of ancient bloodlines you know what Gaunt means."

He watched her with a wild gleam in his eyes only inches away, waiting for recognition. It took her less than a moment.

"Gaunt. Dead," was all she managed to utter past his grip. She was starting to see black spots in her vision.

"Yes, they are dead now," he hissed, now ever closer to her face, "All except me."

She was only able to gasp back at him, as his grip had tightened. With some difficulty she managed to get a hand to his forearm despite this, and shove it up his robe sleeve. He cursed and released her as his flesh sizzled under her touch. They both stared at each other, worse for wear and breathing heavily, seeing if the other would make a move.

Finally Riddle said, "Until next time then Thorpe."

She nodded, glaring at him openly as he exited the room.

/_\

Finally inside the sanctuary of the library, Merissa threw herself down on her favorite wide reading chair and drew her knees up to rest her chin on them.

 _Gaunt_ she thought tiredly and rubbed her face before returning her hand to her lap where it began to fiddle with her ring. She had known there was something spooky about that gaudy ring of his - something spooky about him in general - and it made better sense now.

The Gaunt line, if memory served her, had been notoriously unstable since the break in the Slytherin line to Alphard's own family, the Blacks. The Slytherin name was long gone from both families now, but the mental illness and misfortune had been inherited by the Gaunt's, though they had little else. Ruined for decades upon decades, hardly a penny to their name. _Atleast one man from each generation was afflicted by a great head sickness and usually killed off a few others before themselves dying_ she recalled her mother saying to her, while pointing at the massive tapestry that was a family tree hung over an entire wall of their grand library, _Not that anyone cares, they've been paupers for as long as your grandmother could remember. Hardly purebloods anymore if you ask me. I don't think anyone even keeps track of them anymore . ._.

Apparently, little had changed, since Riddle was barking mad.

Yet, there was another nagging feeling in the back of Merissa's mind. Something else about the line of Slytherin that was just on the fringe of her thoughts.

Hurrying to the section on the founders, she skimmed through several academic books, but found nothing. Frustrated and deciding to try her chances, next she choose a book on the myths and legends of the founders. Perhaps it wasn't a concrete fact she was looking for, but a story. That would explain how it had slipped her mind.

She took the book back to her alcove and curled up in her chair with the book, eyes darting just as quickly as her fingers were flipping the pages. She was interrupted by a loud ripping noise, which when she glanced down, she found was her her book bag, leaning against her chair and cleaved neatly in half. She had forgotten to put a protective charm on it this morning.

She glared up and found Lestrange suspiciously close, and even more suspicious - reading a book. He refused to acknowledge her stare, however, so she turned back to her reading, electing to find a new bag after. She kept a stash of them nearby in empty classrooms, as she had not figured out how to mend the bags after they had jinxed them. It was an illegal hex, she had no doubt.

Going back to her book, she spent several more minutes skimming and flipping through the book. She found plenty interesting, just not what she was looking for. There was a mention of Godric Gryffindor forging a sword from the breath of a manticore and then hammering it with the horn of a unicorn, which Merissa didn't bother to hold back a scoff at. Another story spoke of Helga Hufflepuff creating a room of unknown dimensions that would assist any students if they were in great need. That sounded more familiar and believable, but it had nothing to do with Slytherin so she read on.

Merissa nearly dropped the book in shock when she found the passage she was searching for.

Shock because she had forgotten one of Alphard's favorite stories to tell when her and Susan were having slumber party and he'd sneak in with just a candle and a tale to frighten them. Shock because it hadn't come to her mind at once when she realized who Tom was. Shock, though she'd never admit it, because she was afraid.

How could she forget what they said Salazar Slytherin did on his last days at Hogwarts, and what he heir was one day destined to do when they returned.

She inhaled sharply as she recovered the book into her grasp and began reading the section once, twice, three times. It was bored into her mind by the time she was satisfied enough to snap it shut and throw it onto the table as if it were a dangerous animal.

Closing her eyes, she ran her hands through her hand as she attempted to regain her composure. After all, it was nearly time for Transfiguration class wasn't it? The library was eerily empty.

She glanced down at her wristwatch, which had started buzzing angrily at her, as it knew she was not in the right part of the castle. She swore quietly to herself and at the nifty timepiece as she gathered together her book in her arms (remembering irritably she needed to stop to get a new bag from her stash).

She raced up the stairs, and made it to the classroom just as the detailed hand of her watch reached the top, not a moment too soon.

"Is that _another_ new bag Re?" Abby asked as Merissa slammed her books onto her desk. They had been good enough to save her a seat.

"Yes," Merissa seethed, before leaning down to mutter a protective spell to prevent another incident. This class they only shared with Gryffindors, but she felt one could never be too careful.

Abby quickly looked away to exchange a look with Susan, who shrugged.

"You should really tell someone about how they keep disappearing," Abby told her confidently, "It's probably just Hornby trying to get back at you. I think she's trying to keep a lower profile after the whole kneecap thing."

"It's not Hornby," Merissa said, resting her chin against the tidy stack of books she had made on her desk, "What would she do with book anyways."

They were prevented from interrogating her further as Professor Dumbledore started speaking. Today he had on gastly orange robes on, lifting Merissa's spirits slightly with their outrageousness.

When the class ended, there was a scraping of chairs and hurried footsteps as many of her peers were eager to begin on the excessive amounts of homework they had been doled. Merissa however, lingered, trying to talk herself out of what she was about to do as she walked up to Dumbledore's desk.

He smiled at her through single half-moon spectacle as she approached. He noticed her hestiance as she began to fiddle with her necklace so he said, "Do you have a question about today's lesson Miss Thorpe?"

"No sir," she said, unsure why she was suddenly so nervous. Perhaps it was the necklace that reminded her what happened the last time she meddled with Riddle. But at the same time, the necklace had become a symbol of her own ability to persevere, so she finally said, "Sir I was wondering if you knew anything about Slytherin's descendants?"

"That is a very specific question Miss Thorpe," Dumbledore said, clasping his hands on his desk calmly, "And perhaps one Professor Binns could answer better than myself."

"I know it is not your subject, Sir," she pleaded, "But I am of the opinion that Binns is rather - forgive me sir - senile. He's very old sir."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, "You should not disregard what the elderly have to say. It is often at our greatest age that we can see with the most clarity."

"Yes well," she said, becoming impatient, "I already asked you Professor."

He leaned his chin against his hands for a moment before he spoke, "There have been rumors for years that Slytherin's heir would have great powers. I am slightly skeptical of these. And of course, his line ended many years ago it is believed."

Merissa was becoming very uncomfortable when he did not say that he personally thought his line had ended. While she knew that almost anyone outside the purest-pure blood lines would have no access to the meticulously kept records that she did, his words seemed to take on an uncomfortable double meaning when he spoke, as if he did know better. She began twirling the pendant faster between her fingers.

"Of course, there are those who believe in a even more ludicrous legend that Slytherin made a hiding place, a chamber of sorts, in this very school, locking it until his rightful heir came to Hogwarts. But as the centuries have passed . . . the likelihood of this has diminished significantly."

"What do you think sir?" she asked, barely able to contain her excitement. This was exactly what she had been hoping he would elaborate on. The passage in the book she had found and her own memory was limited in details on the matter.

He seemed to peer into her depths as she sat, trying very hard not to flinch under his gaze.

"I think that if this were to be true, opening the chamber could potentially be more dangerous than it would be enlightening," he finally said.

She nodded quickly before heeding him goodbye and making it out to the hall, heart pounding in her chest.

* * *

 **For my amazing reviewers:**

 _Ivet:_ **Your comments are so motivating, thank you, thank you. The fact that you're engaging with my story as well as reading it just blesses my heart. Merissa and Al are the sweetest together, though I think she may take some issue in his renewed alliance with Abraxas ;) The war between Merissa and Tom is still going strong, but I do agree that sooner or later they'll have to call a cease fire, though it may getter worse before it gets better. I really appreciate your support and feedback.**

 _Love. Fiction.2018:_ **I'm glad you're liking it so far! Its nice to have feedback on my chapters. Much more to come, I promise.**

 _EviColt:_ **No worries with your story updates, believe me when I say I have experienced bout of writers block. Tom really is the worst sometimes, but he hold a special place in my heart nonetheless. Merissa is really starting to square up with him, so we'll see how that goes. She's certainly going to challeneg some things he thought he knew about himself. Lots of dueling in the past chapter so hopefully that was good fun. Thank you again for your feedback, its so sweet :)**

 _Demi:_ **Thank you for your review! Alphard cares about Merissa in a way I don't think anyone else can claim, which I agree is very sweet. Merissa will never stop challenging Tom, I swear it haha. Someone needs to keep him in check after all.**

 **If you enjoyed please comment, follow, favorite or PM me any questions.**


	14. Fireseed

**Back again! This chapter is smallish, however there are a few Easter eggs inside in light of the holiday and just for fun. So, without further delay, enjoy!**

* * *

November 30th, 1942

A week and half later, the implications of her discovery were still weighing heavily on Merissa's mind, even as she sat among her friends at breakfast. Lately, she hardly heard a word of their bright conversations because of her preoccupation. She poked listlessly at her toast, long past warm. Glancing over to the Slytherin table, she saw that Tom was speaking with his posse, mouth moving much too quickly for her to hope to read his lips. Her fingers began ripping apart the cold toast without the rest of her body realizing what she was doing. Susan began watching her worriedly.

Edward Thomas also noticed and followed her eyes to Riddle. He had decided upon his own explanation of recent events, which this behavior only validated.

"He's a very good looking chap," he commented, making Merissa jerk out of her thoughts and look down in confusion at the plate of blackened and shredded bread that was her breakfast. She put the last pieces she was still holding sheepishly before addressing her fellow prefect.

"I beg your pardon, Thomas?" she queried, thinking she must have heard incorrectly. After all, not everyone spent so much time troubling over Tom Riddle.

"Riddle," he said, using a forkful of egg to gesture behind him, "He's sharp."

Merissa wrinkled her small nose, "Hardly. He's a bore."

This was unequivocally false, but it was easier to explain than the more accurate statement of 'he's a psychopath'. It was also what she had thought of him in the beginning of the year, so she passed it off as a white enough of a lie.

Edward shrugged but winked at her knowingly. She narrowed her eyes for a moment before deciding whatever he was getting at wasn't worth her energy, especially when she had so little of it to spare. Unwilling to resume her usual mealtime activity of casting venomous looks at the neighboring table, Merissa busied herself with making a house with the shreds of her breakfast, not feeling the least bit hungry anymore.

Her weeks of practice doing this had improved the architecture of these buildings ten fold. They went from soggy shacks to recognizable structures. She decided to make a Victorian home this morning, using blueberries to form dainty decorative additions. Two particularly hard crusts made posts to hold up the roof, giving the illusion of a wrap around porch. Merissa was pleased with her creation, even if it was nearly time to leave for Herbology now.

Suddenly, her masterpiece crumbled, making her jump. She turned to see that her older brother was standing behind her, tucking his wand away.

"Mother hates when you play with your food," he snapped in response to her affronted expression.

She gave him a sneer and stood, planning to push past him. He seemed to predict her actions and widened his stance. She considered proceeding anyways, but she figured he would probably drag her out of the Great Hall to speak if she avoided him, and in this condition she would be completely useless to resist even a slight breeze physically. She'd rather not display this in front of everyone, especially when Riddle's dark eyes seemed to trail her everywhere in the past few weeks. Listening, as boring as she was sure it would be, was the path of least resistance, of which she had experienced too much lately.

"What?" she grumbled crossing her arms in front of her. Joseph reminded her of their father all too often now. He had inherited their mothers cold glare and their father's stiff posture, an intimidating pair. It was now wonder he had ascended to a position of power.

"Perhaps there would be a more private place to speak to you," her brother said, giving a sidelong glare to her friends. He disapproved of her friends, another trait inherited from their parents. Susan was welcomed into the family like the daughter they never had, but Abby was hardly allowed to visit as she was half blood and James was frowned purely based on the fact that he was a boy. Her parents had a stint last year when they convinced themselves Merissa fancied James, which was equally amusing and horrifying for her.

"I'm sure there would be a plethora of places more private," she agreed but kept her feet planted with no intentions of moving.

His eyes darkened with deep annoyance which brightened her mood considerably.

"You were saying?" she reminded him.

He cleared his throat importantly before he spoke, "Mother wanted me to tell you she needs updated measurements for some dress she is getting you for Christmas. I told her you were looking a bit thin," he gave the wreckage of her toast house a significant look.

"How thoughtful of you," Merissa muttered, "Why didn't she send me a letter then? Would have saved you a walk. . .and a headache from the looks of it," she added brightly.

Joseph scoffed, "She didn't send you a letter because she knows that you don't bother to read anything sent from home. If you did you would know about all that's been happening."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm hardly interested in how Mrs. Crabbe used begonias and not hydrangeas for the latest luncheon or whether or not mother decided upon a Christmas party for us to attend -"

"Additionally," Joseph continued over her pointedly, though he lowered his voice, "I wanted to warn you that although Abraxas had written nothing of you but praise, you cannot expect me to continue to ignore your obvious estrangement from him. Father will hear about it if I haven't seen dramatic change by the holidays. I will give you that long to fix things."

"How generous of you," Merissa spat, pushing past him at last. He let her stalk away, apparently having said all he needed to.

Truthfully, his threat hung over her. She had thought Abraxas would have written to his parents about her by now, as he generally gave his mother play-by-play updates on his life daily. Apparently he was sparing her, which if he wasn't a completely insufferable git, she might have been grateful for. Joseph, however, she knew would follow through. He was of the opinion that she was the greatest risk the good family name had seen in decades, which was more or less accurate.

Merissa remained in a sour mood for the rest of the day until she walked into potions and found that her desk was vacant. He was never late. Riddle had apparently taken another day off. Merissa practically skipped to her seat, earning a grim look from Abraxas who was already seated next to Alphard.

Though she knew there was something significant - and most likely sinister - happening for Tom to miss class, she couldn't help but enjoy the class while it lasted. She found herself beaming at Slughorn as he came to stand in front of the class, having stalled again waiting for his favorite student to arrive.

"We'll be brewing a Draught of Peace today," he told them shortly, his eyes flickering to the empty spot. Merissa wondered if the latest hookie would cause Slughorn to actually reprimand him. She doubted it.

"Ingredients not found in your potions kits will be found on the front table as usual. Chop, chop!" he cried, lacking his usual good humor. He was put off by Riddle's absence.

Merissa worked vigorously for a majority of the rest of the hour. Without Riddle impeding her, she figured the process would have been faster, however she irritably realized it took somewhat longer without his careful assistance and preparations. Nevertheless, her brewing was flawless today, if admittedly taking somewhat longer. The potion had just turned the perfect shade of turquoise blue before she decided there was only one more thing she wanted to experiment with.

"Professor?" she queried as Slughorn paced past her table, so used to her self reliance that he barely glanced at her work anymore.

"Yes my dear?" he asked, turning eagerly to her voice "Though I can't promise I have an answer if you do not know yourself," his eyes twinkled at his own joke.

"I was just wondering if I could use some lavender stems for this, as an experimental addition. I couldn't remember where you kept it. I added twice the moonstone and less unicorn horn because some people find the horn to be overpowering, I wanted something to counterbalance and make it less watery."

"My goodness Thorpe!" he beamed, looking down at her already perfect draught, "I could never hope to have a student again with such a knack for variations. I cannot tell you the results though, as I myself have never. . ." he trailed off uncomfortably.

Though he valued his talented students above all else, he had never been confronted with a student whose skills were encroaching upon his own. Even Riddle, who was a true prodigy was more talented in charms and defensive magic than potions. Merissa would surely surpass him in brewing someday, though her unwillingness to follow directions would be a barrier. He found himself occasionally hesitant to allow her to continue excelling at such a rate.

"Of course sir, it probably won't," she assured him, "I just wanted to test a theory."

She had noticed him shifting uneasily and could tell he was concerned. Her humility seemed to calm him back down, and he smiled warmly at her.

"Yes, yes," he agreed, "Lavender is in the back cupboard, above the lizard tails."

She gave him a charming smile before she began walking to the back of the room, reaching into the familiar container for a few stems of the purple flower before carefully placing them into a vial.

Merissa bumped playfully into Susan on her way back, who was stirring her cauldron attentively while her partner, Olive Hornby, leaned back in her seat picking at her nails.

"Slaving away as usual," Merissa noted, raising her eyebrows at the liquid. It was undoubtedly ruined because without a second person (or one extremely skilled hand) to chop while the other stirred, it had far too much time to simmer. The duo rarely brewed a successful potion.

"I don't know why I try," Susan said viciously, extracting her metal stirrer from the molasses-like liquid with some difficulty. She glared daggers at her partner, "Doesn't this bother you Hornby? It's supposed to be soup-like."

"Of course it bothers me," Olive drawled, pushing her chair further back with her chair and flipping her light hair back, "Aren't you Ravenclaws supposed to be smart. There nothing intelligent about those potion making skills."

"More intelligent, I'm sure, than any thought that has ever crossed your mind," Susan hissed, but Merissa put up a hand to stop her.

"Now, now," Merissa reasoned as Olive opened her mouth, "There's no reason to quarrel about this. Hornby, if you're better then take it."

Olive accepted the stirrer hesitantly, her eyes narrowed at them. Even she knew this rank of false intentions. When she had finally accepted the silver instrument, she set it down as if she expected a bomb to go off. When nothing happened she let out a scornful laugh as if their behavior and not her's had been silly.

"This is slave labor," Olive said raising her nose at the cauldron, "My mother always says teaching people like us this is utterly senseless since we will always be able to buy potions or hire a brewer -"

"Whatever Hornby," Merissa shook her head, "Would you just stir. Also, your fire is about to go out, you better raise it," Olive began hurriedly tending the fire, "Susan, can you help me with my potion since your partner is so independent?"

"Sure," Susan agreed, grateful for an escape from her table and its unpleasant occupant.

Susan and Merissa worked together well, Susan almost as meticulous (and far less challenging) than Riddle as she split the lavender stems, handing them to Merissa one at a time to add to the mixture, which was turning an icier blue and smelled of freshly washed linens.

"Five seconds," Merissa muttered, "Four. . .three. . . "

"What are you talking about?" Susan asked, frowning at the tiny stem she was working on, before the low hissing sound started, rising from the back of the classroom

A cloud of black smoke was accumulating around Hornby's cauldron, growing thicker and the hissing grew louder. The thick potion began sputtering violently and Olive cried out and pushed it away, toppling it into the engorged fire, effectively setting it aflame. Loud pops accompanied by spurts of yellow light exploded from the cauldron as the fire seeds caught flame.

"Brilliant," Merissa grinned as Olive rushed away from the small pyre that was her ruined potion, screeching like a banshee. Slughorn rushed forward to drown the flames, "I had no idea she'd knock over the cauldron too. Now there's no evidence of what even happened."

"You're mental," Susan whispered, looking at her friend with deep veneration.

Merissa just grinned as Slughorn jetted out the last stream of water onto the cauldron, the stone dungeon floor transformed into a swamp of water and ash. He appeared exhausted as he turned to Hornby who was practically in tears, clutching onto Philip Avery, who was wearing a mildly disgusted expression, though he was patting her on the back nonetheless.

"Class is dismissed!" Slughorn cried, as Abby jumped up onto her stool to avoid the water, others following suit, "This will take hours to sort," the professor muttered to himself, shaking his head.

The class became busy as everyone began cleaning out their cauldrons and packing up their ingredients all while trying to avoid the sodden floor. Merissa was in a exceptional mood as she stuff the rest of her moonstone back into her bag, Susan scouring the cauldron with her wand.

As they escaped out of the dungeons and into the brighter upper corridors, Alphard caught up with them.

"Exceptional," he complimented, tossing his arm over Merissa's shoulders to give her a brief squeeze.

"Was I so obvious?" Merissa laughed, not concerned if she had been. The chances of Slughorn reprimanding her were as slim as Riddle hearing a word about his own delinquency.

"No," he assured her, "Abraxas was just muttering from the moment you asked Slughorn where the lavender was about how there was no way you didn't know, since you stocked all the shelves together at the end of last year," he wiggled his eyebrows at her, "So you must have had ulterior motives for going to that shelf, which also houses fireseed if I remember correctly."

"Pure coincidence," Merissa said loftily, winking up at him.

Susan snorted, but Merissa noticed it seemed a bit strained, and upon further inspection she found that Susan was eyeing Alphard's arm, still draped around Merissa uncomfortably. Merissa guessed she was concerned about Joseph's threats and how Abraxas might react if he saw this gesture, which was a good enough reason to slip out from under Alphard under the guise of linking arms with Susan. His smile wavered but he managed to keep in intact.

"I'll see you later, okay?" she told him, "We have to go practice for Charms. I haven't mastered making my goblets waltz yet."

That was a lie. Her goblets could fox trot, Charleston and even Virginia reel, but she needed an excuse. As brave as she liked to be, the thought of Joseph mentioning how Alphard Black seemed to have replaced Abraxas' presence by her side was enough to make her squirm.

"Well get going!" he joked, "But will I see you tonight?" he added in an undertone.

"No," she said sternly, side-eyeing Susan's face, which had blanched upon hearing his question, "I'm busy tonight. We can practice again tomorrow."

She said the word practice plainly, in hopes it would help Susan regain some of her usual tawny color, as she looked in danger of fainting as it was. The girl maintained her curiously light color, but her gait returned to its familiar lengthy stride. Merissa couldn't help but notice she remained rather icy towards her for the remainder of the day.

/_\

Merissa slipped behind the statue of an elderly wizard that she was fairly sure she was related to, one way or another. She hoped the dim evening light streaming into the corridor and flickering torches had masked her small form from any prying eyes.

This possible relation had nothing to do with why she was crouched behind the stone figure however. Merissa was busy tonight, just as she had told Alphard, though it might not be busy with what he thought. She was waiting for something.

Sure enough, right on time, Phillip Avery came down the hall, going to the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting ballet with several ridiculous looking trolls. Avery had paced in front of it twice before she immobilized him, jumping out from her hiding place. The edges of the door which had begun forming disappeared, but this was not Merissa's concern tonight.

He fell onto the hard floor, the look of shock half formed on his face. She glanced around carefully before crouching beside his head. He stared up at her, this being the only thing he could do now.

"In a moment, I'm going to mobilize you from the shoulders up," she told him soberly, "And if you scream I will remove your larynx, understood?"

She hoped he meant it when he finally blinked affirmatively, because she had no idea how to actually do this. He looked angry despite not being able to move his eyebrows. No one had ever dared attack him before.

"So," she said, confidently raising her wand to his neck, "Tell me what you're doing here and it wont get nasty."

She tapped his neck twice. He used his new found freedom to suck in a large breath, but she stabbed her wand into his neck again before he could yell.

"Okay," she snapped furiously, "Okay fine. We'll do this the hard way."

She dragged him with some difficulty, as he was broad and heavily muscled. When she had reached the corner where she figured they would least likely be disturbed, she propped him up against the wall and removed his wand from his robe pocket. He looked offended, as he had witnessed Lestrange struggling with his contraband wand for several weeks now.

"Calm down," she snapped, "It's just a precaution, I'll give it back."

Though it would be easier to hate Phillip, Merissa couldn't bring herself to feel malice as she glanced at his livid brown eyes. He was entitled and bigoted, but he wasn't cruel like the rest of Tom's group. He didn't quite belong. Weak an inner voice criticized making her voice harden when she spoke again.

"I'm going to mobilize your wrist now and you can write on this -"

She was interrupted by a loud bang that tossed her backwards against the wall. Clawing her way around she saw Riddle sauntering over to them, wand raised. Enraged, she tried to move forward but he cast a shield charm between them before she had even gotten to her feet. She let out a hiss and began trying to break through the charm, stabbing fruitlessly with her slender light wand while still bent on her knees.

"I don't have time for you today Thorpe," he drawled, the charm staying in place effortlessly, "Get up Avery," he added to the boy, now gaspin on the ground, "I will deal with you later."

"He didn't tell me anything," Merissa spat rising with as much pride as she could muster, "There's no need to punish him. You know what happens to tyrants Riddle."

"They seem to win wars," he said impassively.

She scowled but had no choice but to leave him with his servant. She hoped he would show some mercy, unlikely as it was.

* * *

 **Things are heating up! Will she succeed in breaking into this mysterious meeting place? Will Phillip be okay? Who knows, not me! (okay maybe I know) Anyways, I will be updating next week and I hope all of you who celebrate Passover had a good one today and those who celebrate Easter have a happy Easter tomorrow. I will be replying to reviews every other update just because I'm in a bit of a time crunch with classes, but please know I love all of you who have taken the time to review and appreciate all feedback.**


	15. The Mind is Willing

**Hi again! I've been highly anticipating (and extremely nervous if I'm honest) posting this chapter, but I finally sucked it up and here it is.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

December 1st, 1942

It was before dawn at Hogwarts and everyone was still tucked away in their chambers, enjoying the warmth and comfort, unwilling to begin their day in the cold drafty halls. It was a Tuesday, and what could really be done on such a day so close to the holidays anyways? There was not work to be done at such an hour, at least for everyone except Tom Riddle.

Tom had been up for hours as he was frequently utilizing these lazy hours in the castle to snoop around. He had goals after all, and one of his main at the moment was discovering the secret chamber created by his ancestor many times removed. Not that he had made much progress of late.

He was glaring at the lavatory wall, daring it to defy him again. Clearing his throat, he tapped the tiles twice with his wand and said for what must have been the hundredth time, " _Cantata revelio!_ " he declared, his voice raspy for overuse.

The wall stayed as solid as it had always been, the tiles gleaming as they reflected the light from the spell, but retaining any secrets they might have held. It was maddening.

This must be the right place after all, he reminded himself, eyes scanning the now familiar room. It was much like any other girls bathroom in the castle he assumed, spacious and clean though not overly fancy. The sage green stalls were painted a light gray by the pre-dawn light and the sinks gleamed white like a straight row of teeth.

It didn't look like an entrance to anything, though from what he deciphered from the journal, this was the place. He had expected that the translation would be the hardest part, yet here he was in the same damned lavatory for the tenth time in just a week.

It could have been an issue with translation he almost admitted to himself. The journal, even when restored had been written in Parseltongue, and although he spoke the language proficiently, he was unfamiliar with the characters. He felt rather stupid conjuring a snake just for it to stare at him blankly and tell him that obviously snakes couldn't read. Obviously. Not to mention, even if he trusted any of his disciples close enough to the journal to read it, there was still the issue that he was the only Parselmouth he knew of in the entire country.

As frustrating as all of this was, nothing really compared to how infuriating he found it that if he was completely focused he knew he would be able to solve whatever issues was preventing him from finding the location. But his mind of late had been spilt - half reserved for his mission and the other consisting of a mixture between school work, plot of school domination and Merissa Thorpe.

She was the real pestering in his mind. As difficult as any new language was to learn or how challenging undoing curses may have been, nothing baffled him further than her magic. There was simply nothing he could compare it to. Even geniuses like himself, Slughorn,or Dumbledore (though he only grudgingly admitted the latter was a genius as Tom detested no one as much as his Transfiguration professor) surely had not been able to practice such advanced wandless magic from such a young age. And from what he had gathered from Avery and Lestrange, as Abraxas, his preferred source, had suspiciously little to say on the matter, Thorpe had been able to perform this magic since childhood. It was simply unheard of for anyone to retain their younger, emotion enticed magic while also learning wanded theory in school. He had certainly tried.

 _No matter_ , a voice argued within his head, _You surely would have made such strides if you were given such ludicrous advantages as she was. Endless string of tutors no doubt, nothing more._

Tom looked back to the tiled wall, unsure what to think about this. It was true, but not the whole truth. Even his thoughts seemed prone to dishonesty.

 _Still_ his own voice disputed _I should figure her out before I proceed. If she keeps coming around our meeting places she'll figure something out._

He felt his mind growing irritated at himself. It was an incredibly uncanny feeling which he sometimes got, and his visit to his filthy Muggle father this past summer had only exacerbated the had thought the visit might bring him peace, but this couldn't have been further from the truth.

He felt no peace even when he was alone, as war raged in his own mind.

 _Either kill her or do nothing_ the voice snapped, _We don't have time to worry about her otherwise. You need to do this, and now._

He couldn't deny that. Time was of the essence. He dutifully returned to his work.

/_\

That very same day, though some hours later, Merissa found that her drive to expose Riddle was somewhat dampened, though not at all extinguished. Yesterday evening had been an embarrassing defeat and she had few ideas of how to ensure success. A majority of advantage that she had counted on having was surprise, and now she had not only blown that, but Riddle was set on high alert. It hadn't escaped her notice how stiff he had been at breakfast. He appeared as if someone could hit him with a bludger and he'd stay just the same. His posture was unyielding, just like his personality. She figured there was only so many times she could provoke him without expecting retribution.

And besides, she told herself as she trudged back from Care of Magical creatures, she hadn't been attentive to anything else in her life lately. Perhaps her failure was a blessing in disguise.

At least she told herself this, while deeper down knowing she hated nothing more than losing. Losing meant she had no choice, and Merissa valued what little freedom her life allowed her more than anything. More than her own soul.

Still, it was an undeniable fact that as Merissa listened to her friends chatter as they walked back up to the castle, she had no idea what they were talking about.

"I can't believe you told him no!" Abby was saying, her voice rising as if it insulted her personally, "I thought you fancied Kenneth!"

Merissa frowned. Susan had turned down Wilson for something? She had been under the impression they were getting along extremely well, especially since Alphard had told her they had gone on several long evening strolls around the Lake. That was generally the equivalent of going steady at Hogwarts, especially as Susan rarely gave attention to anyone of the male gender, except James. Serissa supposed this confusion what she got for going rogue all month; she was horribly unaware of the latest gossip. It seemed like an acceptable price to pay.

"Shush, I don't want this to get around and embarrass him," Susan muttered back, eyeing their small friend with a cross expression, "It's not that I don't enjoy his company. . .We just don't have too much in common."

Merissa found this hard to believe, and apparently she wasn't the only one.

"Oh honestly," Abby groaned dramatically, "He likes quidditch, you like quidditch. He likes you, you think he's handsome - which he is I might add! James - James back me up!" the fiery girl demanded, rounding on their quiet friend.

He gave a noncommittal shrug that made Abby groan in exasperation. Susan smirked.

"Kenneth is dapper," Merissa chimed in, feeling as if she had lost time to make up for. Susan raised her eyebrows in surprise that she had said anything, which Merissa tried to ignore, continuing, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch what he had asked you to though."

"She speaks," Susan muttered under her breath. Merissa wasn't sure if she had meant for her to hear her but it stung either way. She chewed on her tongue, considering her friend. Merissa knew she had been rather awful lately, so Susan's comment probably didn't warrant the snappy response she was holding back.

"The Christmas ball, Merissa," Abby said, now looking positively offended by her lack of knowledge, "You know, the one Slughorn hosts every year. The one you've already agreed to go to."

"I did?" Merissa asked wonderingly. Whenever did that happen?

"You said we'd go together only yesterday," Susan snipped, no longer disguising her scowl, "Should I find someone else less engaged?"

"No," Merissa insisted quickly, "It just slipped my mind momentarily."

Susan was far from convinced but said nothing more. A painful silence broke between the four, the only sound coming from their feet crunching on the gravel and an occasional peal of laughter from Mary who was walking a few strides ahead with Thomas.

Were they going steady now? Merissa couldn't pretend to know.

"Your memory would serve you better if you got any sleep," Abby chided softly, trying to rekindle the conversation. The small girl sounded rather like a mother at times like these - not like Merissa's mother of course, but how she imagined a proper mother would sound.

An uncomfortable pause set in despite Abby's good intentions, as no one had a remark to make about this. Merissa couldn't exactly deny it, after all.

"We all see you burning the midnight oil - literally. I think you must have memorized the library by now," Abby tried a second time, but everyone just nodded in affirmation.

Thomas was telling a story about quidditch practice ahead and Merissa strained to hear it, although the mere word from his mouth generally repelled her. She was desperate for anything to take her mind off of the quiet. Somehow, the silence was louder than anything Edward was saying, and she soon gave up.

"RE! Hey wait up!"

Everyone almost seemed to let out a sigh in relief as the silence was broken naturally. Merissa looked up from the damp gravel path to see Alphard lightly jogging towards her from down the dewy hill, beaming. She smiled back as he slid down the grass and nearly knocked Susan down in the process.

"Sorry Nigellus," he apologized as he grabbed her waist to steady her, causing her to go scarlet. He hardly noticed, turning to Merissa, "So Re, the list to sign up to stay at Hogwarts just went up and I wanted to ask you."

"Ask me what? I'm not staying," she scoffed, starting to walk again, Alphard matching her stride "They only other person I know staying is Malfoy."

"Gross," he agreed, nodding nervously, "But I meant if you had mentioned going to Switzerland with my family to your parents and if they had . . ." he gestured to indicate acceptance.

"Oh," Merissa said, pursing her lips, suddenly very preoccupied with her footing, "Well I didn't realize that was a serious invitation."

More that she had hoped it wasn't. Not only was she living on borrowed time away from Abraxas due to her family, but she also knew it was impractical to continue encouraging Alphard. Things were complicated enough as it was.

He looked slightly hurt but went on anyways, "Well, I mentioned it to mine. They spoke to your parents and they came to an - an understanding," he finished uncertainly glancing at her profile.

"Really," Merissa quiered, not having to feign surprise at this.

She wondered what Mr. or Mrs. Black could have possibly said to her parents to allow her to skip not only the annual Christmas parties but also the entire vacation. The Malfoys would be furious if Abraxas ended up at a single gala by himself. The thought of him arriving with his parents and having to dance with awful girls made her slightly giddy, before she reminded herself she wouldn't be going with Alphard anyways. Her motivations were selfish, and she couldn't think of anyone who deserved selfish people less than Alphard.

"Yes," he said earnestly, "We'd all love it if you went, Re. Luci has been asking about it in every letter since my parents mentioned it to her."

Lucretia was Alphard's youngest cousin, who idolized Merissa. She had to admit, the offer was becoming more tempting. There were few things that sounded sweeter than sipping hot chocolate with Luci Black on Christmas Eve. Merissa had never had a holiday to herself, away from the crushing expectations of her parents. And Alphard was hardly poor company either . . .But hadn't she decided just two nights ago it would be wrong to go? Her reasonings for this conclusion were conveniently dwarved at the moment.

"I'll let you know Alphard," Merissa edged, "I just need to check on one thing before I can decide."

He looked slightly puzzled by this response, however it was not a no so he was contented, "Okay, catch you later Re!" the optimism of his smile tugged at her heart, "Bach, Nigellus," he added, nodding to each in turn.

Alphard loped back up the hill leaving them to walk back to the castle by themselves. Silence set in again upon his departure. Merissa wondered how long this uncomfortable trend would carry on for. She had already grown tired of it and Susan's expression resembled one of trying to birth a large dragon egg.

"You really shouldn't lead him on, Merissa," she finally said sternly as they situated themselves in their usual space at the Ravenclaw table.

Abigail waved a roll at the raven haired girl carelessly as she said through a large bite she had just taken, "Don't be ridiculous Susan. She's not with Abraxas anymore except formally. She can do whatever she wants."

Susan glowered at her as Merissa avoided their conflict by busying herself with a rich shepards pie. While she agreed that she was probably being unfair to Alphard she was also in no position to be turning away friends at the moment. Her schism with Riddle was a well established story throughout the school at this point, and she was consequently unpopular with most of the girls who fawned over him, which was really just most of the girls at Hogwarts in general.

Merissa tossed her fork down as she stood up. She was losing to a pretty boy. How pathetic did that make her?

"Where are you going?" Abby asked, frowning up at her.

Merissa shook her head at her as she wordlessly departed. Susan's eyebrows seemed like they might permanently be stuck together as she watched her go.

Exiting the crowded Great Hall in such a rush, she was bound to bump into someone, though the person who lumbered into her was much larger than the average student.

"Ow," she complained, looking up only to find that the solid wall she had collided with was none other than Phillip Avery.

Paling, she stepped back inadvertently. She wasn't scared of him, more scared for him. But Avery just stared past her - through her even - with a blank expression. Merissa shot a glance back to the Slytherin table to make sure Tom was occupied by his other fans before speaking to him.

"A-are you okay Phillip?" she asked hesitantly, trying to catch his eye despite their gaping height difference. The boy did not reply but stared over her head at nothing in particular.

 _Merlin did they lobotomized him?_ She asked herself, halfway believing such a thing would be done as punishment for such a small infraction. Without realizing she had reached out and touched his arm.

Something shook in his demeanor and he finally seemed to realize someone had spoken to him, though he still had his eyes fixed on a spot just over the staff table, "Good morning," he stated (Merissa didn't bother to correct him that it was nearly mid afternoon now), "How are you?"

His voice was hollow and lacked any of its usual smooth quality. It cracked and peaked unnaturally, as if he was saying the words and nothing more. His expression remained flat.

"I'm well," Merissa lied. If she thought she was unnerved by Avery before, this put it to shame, "Are you hurt?"

He laughed, though it sounded more like sobs, "Yes of course," he wheezed, "I had a fun game of quidditch yesterday and hit my head hard. I'll be better in a few days."

Merissa bit her lip and she considered him. That was a believable enough of a lie, which made her think it was not his own. He didn't seem in well enough condition to come up with excuses for it.

"You better be, or Riddle would never get away with this huh?" she muttered, mostly for her own ears. He heard her though and seemed to see her for the first time in their conversation.

"Merissa," he said earnestly, putting a hand on her shoulder. He sucked in a breath and opened his mouth before he hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. His expression flattened again and he did not move his eyes from behind her again, "Have a good day," his finished in the same cracked tone as before.

Merissa didn't turn to watch him walk back to the table. She was sure who he had caught the eye of. Shooting Riddle a glare seemed juvenile at this point so she simply stormed off out of the hall. He had changed the game, though she had not been winning the previous one either.

Stopping dead at the bottom of the staircase, her peers passing around her, Merissa found herself on the edge of a precipice. There were ultimately only two options, as there always was in situations like this: she could do something or she couldn't, and she was too furious to not do anything. She would just have to bend a few of her own rules.

Sprinting, Merissa made it to the seventh floor, breathing heavily, and ignoring the slight burn in her lungs. She wasn't used to ascending so quickly, but she wasn't allowing anything to hinder her. She drew a spare wand, tucking her own away in one of her many hiding places. The new wand was made of muddy brown wood and was far to thick in her grasp, nothing like her beloved cyprus and dragon heart strings. It prickled unpleasantly under her fingers, but she knew the risk was greater than her discomfort. She didn't want to take any chances of a trail being left. It was highly illegal, after all, to perform the magic she planned to on another student.

Lestrange was just moving down the hall when she stunned him. She caught him before he could hit the ground and levitated him to a classroom almost with the same swish of her wand. There was no time to waste.

Once he was inside, she closed the door. She locked it with the metal bolt and a charm for good measure, before kneeling next to his head. Only now did she hesitate. It wasn't necessarily the trouble she could get in to for this that was giving her pause, but the invasion of his mind. Merissa was no stranger of this, as her father had liked to test her and Joseph's occlumency at dinner when they were younger. The feeling of having her mind opened was violating as it was physically uncomfortable. She thought very little of this boy, yet with his face relaxed and eyes closed, he could have been asleep, and everyone looked softer when they slept.

 _Probably not Riddle_ a voice hissed from inside her head, so she brought the foreign wand to his temple and whispered, " _Legilimens_ ".

She was almost knocked backwards at the intensity of his memories. She felt sick entering, confirming what she already knew - that they were entirely incompatible people, even on a fundamental level. She pushed back her disgust reminding herself she didn't have to dwell here once she found what she needed. Regaining her focus she began to search for anything in particular. She wasn't sure what to expect.

As she watched, she saw flashes of a large room full of junk that she did not recognize. Daovo Rosier was dangling upside-down and they were throwing pegs at him, guffawing with laughter. Abraxas was standing to the side, looking rather ill. Then, inside the same room, Riddle was showing him a large journal, bound in dark leather that moved too fast for Merissa to read. Flickers of Olive Hornby's face, suddenly in disgusting proximity, making Merissa reconsider this entire plan. She never wished to know what snogging her felt like. Then, flashes of a bathroom - surprisingly a girl's bathroom - and Riddle leaning over a toilet inside. It was late at night, given the only light was coming from the tips of their wands. _Creeps_ Merissa thought hazily through the vivid image. But at the same time, she realized she could not see anyone else inside. They didn't appear to be attempting a peak.

As suddenly as she had entered, she was thrown back out of his mind. Confusion overtook for a moment, as he should not have been able to resist her while unconscious, before realizing it was an issue from her own body.

It hurt, just slightly at first as she entered back into her own mind. But the pain intensified every second until Merissa was sure she would faint. But she didn't. What started as a low whimper, rose into a scream before she found she could no longer make a sound. Someone had silenced her.

Her body writhed in agony, pain reaching its climax just as it stopped all together. It was no longer than a few moments, but it had felt like several minutes.

She opened her eyes, taking ragged breaths, quickly discovery she saw only gray. For a moment she was concerned that the spell had done something to her vision before she realized her cheek was resting on the floor and she was looking at the flat stone which it was composed of. She managed to raise her head, meeting the cold eyes of Riddle looking scornfully down his extended wand at her. She wasn't remotely surprised.

"You bastard."

She mouthed the words, her voice still stolen from her and her lips obscured by the ground that she was still not able to raise her chin off of.

He didn't say a word as he turned to work on Lestrange, leaving her to struggle to move her limbs in coordinated enough of a fashion to stand, or atleast sit up. Riddle succeeded first, and Lestrange awakened with a gasp, looking like he had just seen a ghost, assuming such a thing would be frightening to a wizard. He finally seemed to orient himself when his eyes fell on the twitching mass that was Thorpe. He looked like a hungry animal as he took her in, only to have Riddle pull his attention away.

"What happened."

It was not a question, rather a threat.

Merissa wondered if Lestrange had participated in whatever they did to Phillip and if he would regret his involvement now that the situation would undoubtedly be reversed. She doubted it, but the thought brought her a slightly sadist relief from her own pain. None of the protectiveness she felt for Avery applied to Lestrange. He had been a monster for as long as anyone could remember.

Lestrange did not hesitate as he explained, "I was leaving and she ambushed me. She used legilimens -"

Riddle laughed a cold to interrupt him that held no real humor. Lestrange shuddered; Merissa didn't blame him.

"I wonder how exactly a tiny thing like her managed to take down your physical and mental barriers, Lestrange."

"She's a lot tougher than she looks! I -"

" _Crucio."_

Merissa was writhing again for a moment under Riddle's wand, mouth open in a silent scream He tightened his jaw, though he had not looked at her as he cast the curse. He lowered his wand after only a moment, his point made.

"Is she."

Lestrange had no reply for this.

Riddle swept to her side, snatching up the wand she had been using, "This isn't yours."

Merissa wanted to snap back that it wasn't his either, but she was still silenced, and very weak as well. He moved past her, before turning impatiently, "Come," he commanded, and Lestrange darted out of the room with him.

Merissa meanwhile had finally managed to prop her head up on her hands, although she had no wand, so she just had to watch them leave. Her treasured swatch of light wood was tucked safely in a hollow of a bust of Baelfire the Brave, far, far away from her reach She coughed, and spat some blood onto the floor. She knew this wasn't good, but found it very hard to bring herself to care at the moment. With her new-found knowledge of Riddle's lavatory lurking being her only fruit of her labors hardly seemed like a victory in light of her current state. The pain was overtaking her mind. She dully wondered if she would be able to make it out of bed tomorrow as she managed to get a grip on a nearby desk. She tried to lift herself, unsuccessfully. Her legs slide uselessly under her. She crumpled down on them, putting her arms out to catch herself.

But her arms were no stronger than her legs. Her body smacked down against the ground, her teeth cutting into her lip. Warm blood filled her throat as she raised her head. Ignoring it, she stretched out her hands over the desks, preparing for a second attempt.

She gripped the table again, the pressure bringing tears to her eyes and she managed to rise on quivering bambi legs. Her muscles groaned in protest as she began to walk, leaning heavily on the desks as she went, as if they were crutches. The real challenge began as she tried to get to the door. She managed to take two steps towards it before she fell. Her chin crashed into the floor, splitting her skin underneath. More tears dripped down her face as she pushed herself up, defiantly. He would not win.

She managed to make it to the door on her third try. She opened the door, leaning on the knob as it swung open. She hopped to the stairs, grateful when she managed to catch the banister before falling over again. With her lip and tongue bleeding already and the rest of her body damaged, she was unsure if she would remain conscious for another blow to her skull. Her muscles were beginning to cramp now, which was better and worse. The pain of the first step down made her vision close in on her for a moment. She managed to cling onto the rail, and after an additional moment she was able to take another. She managed her way down the first staircase slowly. She was surprised not to see anyone, before she realized the light outside was dim. Everyone was probably at dinner.

The second flight was considerably more difficult, as it contained not only a trick step, but also a lower banister. She had to bend unhappy muscles to grasp it firmly. _He would not win_ she thought again, allowing the phrase to fill her with determination.

She repeated this with every step she took down to the dungeons. She was running almost entirely on spite now. By the time she had made it down, however, dinner was over and students began to move past her. Some cast her looks that she was sure she would have found humor in if she didn't feel like she might pass out if she so much as smiled.

Halfways across the dungeon she stumbled, and nearly fell again. Fortunately, strong arm caught her, and she looked up expecting to see Alphard.

It was Abraxas.

He did not look at her as she gaped at him. Surely, he would have heard why she was like this, and surely he would be punished for even acknowledging her after her actions today. But here he was, letting her rest all her weight on his firm shoulder.

It was not intimate the way he was holding her, but it was by far the most comforting feeling she had ever experienced. His arm was steady around her waist and his expression was hard. He was her rock.

"I don't know what you're doing here," he said out of the corner of his mouth, "And you will probably get both of us killed," she lowered her head in shame, "But I also figure I am indebted to you, for more than one reason."

She had to push her mouth into a hard line so it did not betray her, before he said, in a voice so quiet that she was sure she must have imagined it, "And you're the bravest bloody idiot I've ever met."

She was sure she imagined it then.

He held her the rest of the way to the common room and muttered the password, which apparently had changed since her last visit. She wouldn't have been able to make it this far without him, for more reason that one.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they entered the common room and everyone's eyes turned to them.

Tom had been reclining lazily in one of the straight backed armchairs speaking to Travers and Mulciber, but upon their arrival he stiffened entirely. Almost everyone seemed to be frozen, taking in the scene of the estranged couple, Merissa with her face and front almost entirely saturated in blood.

She gently pushed Abraxas off, releasing him from anymore stares and hoping not to provoke Tom further who was looking like he might kill them both on the spot. She hobbled over to the bulletin board, depending heavily on the couch backs for support. Alphard, who had been frozen, his queen raised in midair as he was about to deliver a checkmate to Wilson, quickly moved to her side. He looked horrified, but was apparently at a loss for words.

With his support, she managed to fish her self-filling quill out of her bag and raise her arm to the board. He stared as she scribbled, hand shaking from the effort. When she was done, she nearly collapsed in his arms. He had helped her out of the room before anyone dared move.

Once they had gone, the room was dead silent, no one moving a muscle, just as before. The difference was the silence which had been static before now was thick with unspoken words. It was Tom who finally stormed forward, ripping the parchment off the wall. He held it up, not believing his eyes. It was the sign up sheet for staying for the Christmas holiday. The list was a lot longer than usual, as all in his circle had been coerced into staying.

But under his perfect signature of 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' she had scratched a name that would haunt him for longer than he knew.

Merissa Rose Thorpe.

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 **Update number sixteen coming to a near you, next weekend 2018. Haha no but seriously I will be posting again in a week so stay tuned. Thank you for all your support and make sure to follow, sub and especially review because I want to know what you all thought.**

 **In reply to reviews on chapters thirteen and fourteen:**

Ivet **: Thank you for your reviews, you angel! We get a peek into how Tom is equally interested in her magic in this chapter! All very mysterious ;) I'm not quite sure what you meant by exchange of views, but that entire meeting was a joy to write. The mental image of Tom in biking gloves will never leave me now. Merissa is definitely going to have some trials, Joseph is the worst. Sorry that the nature of her sneaking wasn't clear! She is currently aware they are doing something on the seventh floor and she sees them opening the Room of Requirements but she doesn't know what it is or how to open it. Thank you for asking though, I'm always looking for feedback when things are unclear. I know my sentences get kind of wacky sometimes. Phillip is not having a good week, I can tell you that much.**

Demi: **You're welcome! I hope you continue to enjoy the updates, even as this intensify. I appreciate your reviews.**

.2018: **Thank you! I'm glad you've been liking the chapters.**

TheRavenSlayer13: **I'm so honored that you like my story! I try to make my characters not black or white but more nuanced. She definitely has her hot-hotheadedness and occasional selfishness, but I'm grateful she is likable despite that. Alphard is certainly asserting himself more now, though Merissa does seem pretty bent on staying as just friends so, we will see, we will see. Let me tell you a little secret: I friendship ship Merissa and Abraxas so much. Abraxas is my favorite (though of course I know where I'm going with him so I'm biased as heck in that sense). I tried writing him in the beginning as a bigot but then I started considering more and more about his character and decided he just couldn't be as one sided as he is often portrayed. We see humanity in Lucius Malfoy in DH so I take that as canonical evidence that Malfoy's can't all be as horrible as they pretend to be. Of course, he does horrible things sometimes, but he ultimately is the grayest and most morally ambiguous character, which makes him very special to me. Anyways, very happy their is another Abraxas fan out there and I highly value your feedback :)**


	16. The Flesh is Weak

**Hello friends! I just wanted to say thank you for those who have stayed with me this far. Your support means a ton to me and has really kept me motivated and honest about keeping on writing, editing, and updating, so I greatly appreciate that. It's getting tougher to make long chapters as school is really amping up, but I will do my best to provide timely and engaging updates. I'm planning on going back and adding titles as well as quotes to my chapters come mid June when my summer vacation begins. Please leave me some feedback if you're liking it or if you aren't, tell me why. Every opinion is an important one to me.**

 **And of course, above all else, enjoy!**

 ***Please note the date - this update occurs literal seconds after the last chapters end***

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December 1st, 1942

"You are an idiot, Thorpe," Alphard snarled, helping her limp up the third flight of stairs. He had been rendered mute but her brash act at first, but he seemed to have finally found his voice now that they were far away from the dungeons, or perhaps more accurately, far away from Riddle, "That's not even the list you need to sign up on. The _Ravenclaw_ list is in the _Ravenclaw_ tower."

"I know," she said quietly, wincing as she forced her legs up the stairs. She was determined not to show how damaged she was, her curtain of dark hair hiding her expression. Alphard would likely turn back around to the dungeons and hex Tom if he knew what had happened - and Merissa knew that wasn't a feat anyone got away without consequences from.

"What?" he snapped, attempting to round on her but hindered by the weight of her body that was leaned against him. He settled for glaring at her sidelong between steps. Pulling her face into a smooth mask she turned, allowing her hair to brush back onto her shoulder like a curtain raising to begin the show. An act seemed necessary with almost everyone these days.

"I know," she repeated, steadily meeting his eyes, "I wanted to make a point."

Honesty was sure to throw him off her trail.

"Well you sure managed that!" he raged, practically lifting her off her feet as he helped her onto the next step, "But did you consider how now that you've decided to stay for the holiday, Riddle is going to have all of break to murder you in a relatively empty castle. I'll have to talk with my mother, convince her I have to stay for quidditch or something . . ."

She allowed him to rant, the pain coming to the front of her mind now that she didn't have the purpose of shaking up her nemesis to distract her. Her satiny locks moved back in between them, ending the performance. Alphard sighed, realizing she was no longer listening, watching her hobble across the next landing as if she had aged ninety years over the last hour. Sighing again, he plucked her up off the ground, knocking her knees out from under her with a graceful swoop.

She stiffened in his arms at once, "What are you doing?"

He snorted at her, and began walking, "I'm transporting you more efficiently, calm down."

"No," she insisted, panic beginning to leak into her voice, "Put me down."

She could only imagine someone's expression if they spotted them like this. The rumors were bad enough as it was. And even more horrifying than a random stranger's judgment - what would Susan think if she saw the two of them? She was under the impression Merissa was toying with him enough as it was, this would only exacerbate this issue.

He ignored her and made it about five steps before she said, slightly shriller, "Seriously Alphard, _put me down_."

She had just created a mental image of Susan's face seeing him carrying her like this. It was horrifying enough for her to insist on walking independently, no matter how uncomfortable putting weight on her legs was. After all, she reasoned, merely existing was painful right now. She could handle a little more.

He glared at her, his proximity making her cheeks tint a light pink despite her general pallor. She was quite sure she had never been this close to his face before as she was beginning to notice how distractingly handsome his high cheekbones were, which was not helping the situation.

"Do you always have to be in control, Thorpe?" he growled.

He had clearly meant to shame her into submission but she simply told him, "Yes," her chin jutting out fiercely.

He groaned but carefully let her down, keeping his grip firm until her feet were planted flat onto the stone floor. She took a step by herself before stumbling back into him. He secured his arm around her waist, making to help her again.

"You don't have to," she insisted, attempting to disconnect herself from his grasp. This proved to be a difficult task, as his arms were rippled with muscles from wielding a heavy beaters bat and hers were weak from malnutrition and pain.

He ignored her, keeping a steady grasp on her side, "I'm pretty sure I do actually. You've got all the stability of a 130 year old dragonpox patient on stilts."

She allowed him to help her without protest after that. She probably would have even accepted being carried, but he did not move to try again. _Which is for the best_ a voice chided her, _Susan may be delusional, but she's right. You shouldn't give him any false impressions._ Especially when her promises to Abraxas were bond tighter than ever.

Abraxas. . . she hoped he was alright, before reprimanding her fuzzy brain for being so forgiving. She sternly countered that whatever happened to him was surely not half as awful as the emotional torment he had put her through. Though as she had now been on the receiving end of one of Riddle's Cruitatuses, she was no longer so sure of this. Nevertheless, she convinced herself that distance from Alphard was what was right, for everyone.

But staying focused on keeping her distance as he assisted her was difficult as the pain became increasingly worse. Her muscles seemed intent on wrapping themselves into tight balls, binding tighter as she went on. It was all she could do to keep her jaw clenched tight and not allow so much as a whimper escape her lips.

Once they had reached the top of the seemingly endless spiral staircase that led to the Ravenclaw common room, they were both worn, "Of course you live in the highest tower," Alphard groaned, rubbing his side, "Couldn't be in a less practical place."

"Thank you Alphard," she said sincerely, "I would probably still be in the dungeons if it weren't for you."

 _I'd probably be dead_ she silently amended.

He brushed her thanks off, unwilling to take any credit, "You'd be fine. You always turn out okay. . . despite your best efforts."

He realized she really must be unwell when she didn't smack him for this comment.

"What did he do to you Re?"

He didn't specify whom he was speaking of, but she knew anyways. Merissa wished she had a moment more to compose herself, but he was facing her now, holding her steady with a sturdy hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing I didn't deserve for being so careless," she replied, gingerly rearranging her limbs so that she could stand more comfortably and to buy herself some time without looking him the eyes, "I'll obviously have to be a lot smarter from now on."

He started to pull her forward, but only needed to see they way his hand on her arm made her wince to settle for moving himself in front of her so she couldn't avoid meeting his gaze anymore. He knew how awful of a liar she was, as well as how she tried to avoid it, like she was now.

"You're not going to do anything more Re," he said, eyes wide, "There's no way you can plan on messing around with this anymore. You look like you almost died - No I'm serious!" he exclaimed when she began to roll her eyes at him, "Promise me Re! Or I'll start camping out in your common room and -"

"Okay," she conceded, more to cut off his monologue than anything, "No more spying on Riddle and his disciples."

Alphard's face melted in relief, "Good. . . I really would have too, Re so don't give me any reason to. . ."

She had no doubt that he would, which was exactly why she had lied to appease him. It was a miracle it had fooled him in the first place so she was quick to put a hand to his arm to distract him from what she was sure was a crumbling mask on her face.

Nodding, she squeezed his shoulder. He pulled her into a hug that she was sure he wanted to be tight and comforting, but given her condition, he kept soft, "Should I stay or. . ." he trailed off.

"No," she said firmly, "I will be fine here. I'll lock my door for good measure."

She could have laughed at the ridiculously of this assurance if she hadn't been aware of the grim repercussions it held. It was highly unlikely that if Riddle really wanted to break in that flimsy iron bolt would keep him at bay. She didn't expect to sleep soundly anytime soon.

He nodded frantically, though she saw his face lower ever so slightly in disappointment, "Here let me show you something for the pain," he murmured and swished his wand. A faint blue glow surrounded her clenched calf and her left leg relaxed. She groaned in relief, staggering slightly. He caught her, patting her back fondly, "Now when you get in bed just do that to everything," he hesitated, mulling her over for a moment before muttering quietly, "Be safe Re."

He waited until she was inside to leave.

Merissa managed to make it into her bed without waking her dorm mates, a feat she would not appreciate until later. Once she had arranged herself under her thick blankets, she allowed her body to relax for the first time in hours. Her stomach growled, reminding her she had not had anything since the shepherds pie earlier today, which seemed like years ago now. She refused to give it any attention, her mind and muscles taking a far priority. She began meticulously working on her limbs, using the spell Alphard had demonstrated for her. Once she was fully numbed, she allowed her thoughts to take center stage. She felt slightly guilty, although she reasoned that she had not technically lied to Alphard, as she would no longer be following anyone around anymore.

When Riddle had attacked her, he had brushed into her mind, checking to see what she had seen. She had felt him and thought hard about the first scene she had seen (particularly on snogging Hornby, which was still burned into her memory) at not the second, of the bathroom. He had no idea about what she knew. She was very practiced at occlumency, and had done this switching with ease. So much ease in fact, that she was able to push back slightly. She had seen just a flash of his mind, but it had been enough. He too was thinking about the dim bathroom, relieved that she had seemed to have no knowledge of it. It was a mistake that only someone new to legilimens would make, which was a gleeful reminder of her advantage.

She wouldn't have to follow anyone anymore just as she had promised, because she knew the destination. She smiled, finally feeling like today had been a victory.

/_\

December 4th, 1942

"That isn't mine," Lestrange said, earning him a warning glance from everyone in the room. They were gathered around Riddle in the Come and Go room, which had received many more precautionary measures since Thorpe's infiltration into Lestranges' mind. Though Tom had assured them that all had been taken care of, even he couldn't deny that everything had felt different since. Those who knew the truth seemed to still be holding their breath, waiting for the consequences to fall down around their heads.

But nothing had come of it, at least not yet.

"I will allow your tone to slip today Lestrange, because I understand you've had a trying month," Riddle said, his voice a deadly calm, " However be sure to hold your tongue before I am inclined to take it," Lestrange flinched, but Tom of course ignored this, continuing on, "What do you mean this isn't yours? It's not hers, who's is it?"

Nearly everything about Tom gave off an air of nonchalant disinterest lately, but the sharper boys were acutely aware of the new glint in his eyes. He was a sliver concerned, which made them all incredibly anxious. Nothing good ever came of his moods.

"Some random criminal, probably," Lestrange answered with a dismissive shrug before continued, as if predicting that Riddle would not be satisfied by this brief response. He had developed a sort of sixth sense for Tom's bouts of anger, being the receiving end of his displeasure lately.

"Thorpe Senior is head of Magical Law Enforcement, so he has easy access to all the wands they confiscate from people. He keeps a large amount of them locked in his desk in their home, so of course Baby Thorpe and her brother have smuggled a fair amount out over the years."

Tom considered cursing Lestrange for calling someone in his own year a baby, before deciding it would be less than productive. He needed more information, and this square jawed sixth year had it.

"What exactly is the purpose of this - other than petty theft, which she seems to have quite a knack for," Riddle drawled, twirling the contraband wand in his fingers. It was an unpleasant muddy color and felt wrong against his palms. This conversation, and indeed all conversation of late, seemed to a waste of his time and he itched to just administer whatever punishment he deemed necessary and get back to searching for the chamber. The lengthy vacation he had counted on to have searching for it was compromised now that Thorpe would now too be snooping around. Again, she had become a complete nuisance.

"She uses a spare wand whenever she does something questionable, so that it can't be tracked back to her," Lestrange answered, shifting as if he predicted this would upset Tom. And it did. She was being more careful than he thought - more careful than him even - and that was unacceptable.

"However did you come into her confidence to learn this," Riddle challenged, hoping to draw the attention away for her successes. He knew how fickle some of the boys in this room still were. If they got sniff of someone more worth following they would jump ship. And Tom couldn't imagine anything more infuriating than his own house favoring Thorpe over himself.

"We grew up together, my lord," he replied, slightly confused.

Right, she was pureblood royalty after all. They all knew each other. It was more than likely they were related through one relative or another. A kinship Tom himself knew he would always lack.

"Of course, I just did not realize you were so . . close," Riddle quickly tried to cover his own error. He often forgot that most of his peers had known each other for years. He had found it a distinct disadvantage upon his arrival first year. He really ought to remind them who was the alpha soon, but this was growing harder as his search for the chamber proved fruitless. He could feel the unrest growing with each meeting.

Lestrange bowed his head and stepped back into ranks with the rest of the boys. He seemed compliant, at least for now.

Maybe he worried too much, Tom told himself as he surveyed his company. Their respect for him has increased after Lestrange had recounted first hand what he had done to Thorpe and how he had punished Malfoy for helping her. In fact, no one had stepped a toe out of line at all since then. This helped him justify it immensely. After all, he was just doing what he needed to.

It didn't stop his stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling every time he thought of it though, which simply baffled him. He was no stranger to unforgivable curses, but something about seeing her afterwards did not sit well with him. She had demonstrated her ability to defy him in front of all of these boys, and he would be a fool to ignore the impact one rebel could have on carefully set order.

"Any breaches will not be forgive so kindly in the future," Riddled reminded them, as the thought was fresh in his mind. Lestrange had been tortured of course, and brutally too, but this reminder of Thorpe's long relationship with most of them as well as his own self-created discomfort made his unease return.

And yet, the one with the clearest relationship with her was staring at the wall with vacant grey eyes. Malfoy hadn't been himself since his own discipline after aiding his girlfriend those few nights ago. It was getting very inconvenient to cover for his bouts of blank silence, especially in Slughorn's class where the professor was used to showing Abraxas such preference and now found him to be nearly mute. Tom was annoyed with the chore he had created for himself, but he couldn't have known this would be the results as Malfoy had never needed correction before. Unforgivables were tricky in that way. They broke some people faster than others.

While in reality, most of the disturbed bit was an act on Malfoy's end. Merissa had found him after his punishment and nursed him back to health. Abraxas remembered the pain strongly, but even more vivid was the look on her face when she saw him, attempting to make his way back to his room, hunched over a gargoyle, and trying not to vomit.

"I suppose all of this was for offering me an arm to lean on?" she hissed furiously as she ducked her shoulder under his arm and began moving him into a more private corner as quickly as she could, which was not very. She was too small, and Abraxas was able to do little to lift his own tall frame. Both of his arms were bleeding profusely onto her but she didn't take any notice of her ruined robes.

She conjured a pillow to rest his head on while she began removing his outer clothing gingerly. The sleeves of his white shirt were now red tatters than blended with his ripped flesh.

"Shush," she chided halfheartedly as he let out a low groan, "We can't draw attention to ourselves. . . it would be improper."

He tried to glare at her for reusing his words in this situation but found he could only bleed on her.

"Okay," she whispered, seemily to herself, "I can do this. I've been carrying dittany around just in case. Your boss really makes me nervous you know," he groaned at her again, "Okay, no jokes, got it. This will sting a little but I swear it will feel better if you just. . . ah there it goes!" she beamed as his flesh closed up, leaving just a small scar. Abraxas groaned again, this time in relief.

"You're going to have marks if you don't get someone better than me to - oh please you're not allowed to go to the hospital wing either?" he shook his head violently at her before stopping and grimacing at the pain the movement brought.

"Whatever, ergh," she continued muttering, dabbing another ointment on his other arm, "You'll just have marks and basically be dead for a few days while your body replenishes your blood but other than that, you'll be fine."

She finished her instructions, glancing down at him again. His shirt was ripped in several places along his chest, but whatever had cause them had either not marked him or already healed. It left pale slits of his lean chest visible. She smirked down at him, deciding he was looking alive enough to tease.

"You know this is the most skin I've seen on you," she said winking. Her expression darkened slightly and she rolled her eyes when he responded by turning slightly green, "Merlin that's insulting," she sneered, "I was only joking. You don't need to get physically ill over it."

"I am ill," he snapped back, before softening, "But you should know, its really nothing to do with you, I-"

"I don't care," she interrupted, helping him up, "I'm just glad you're not dead. It does mean anything you did was okay. In fact if I was a lesser witch I might say this was penance," she sniffed, unwilling to soften as he had.

"I never meant to hurt you Meri," he told her earnestly as they began to walk down the corridor. It was very late at this point and he knew Riddle would have already left their meeting place to rendezvous to wherever he went. Not that he planned to share any of this knowledge with Merissa, who according to Alphard had just given up her snooping. Abraxas personally very much doubted this but he allowed Alphard to be optimistic as there was little either of them could do at this point. She was stubborn, and would lie if anyone asked anyways.

"You didn't hurt me, just my pride," she shrugged, "Not that I forgive you," she added harshly.

Abraxas gave her a sidelong glance that he hoped she wouldn't notice. What exactly had changed about her in the last few months? He had no words for it at the moment, but here she was, lying to him and keeping up facades, things she had been previously rubbish at. Her eyes, previously portraying a mind lost far away were now focused, glaring straight ahead. There was a certain sharper quality about her now that went beyond her features, which her habit of skipping meals had hollowed out to angular borders. It made him wonder.

"You are mostly pride," he countered, "It's certainly a majority."

She snorted, but her eyes stayed fixed ahead, "Okay, you can walk the rest of the way. I am leaving while the apparent majority of my personality is intact."

He now felt the need to snort, though he stopped himself abruptly as he realized how indecent it would be of him. Instead he let out a brief gust of air from his nose which he choked back, making her glance over in concern.

Merissa was a truly decent person, and one of the few he knew. While he had always respected her secretly, with the pressures of convincing her of his interest were removed, he found himself enjoying her presence.

He smiled at her, "You're funny, Mer. I'm sorry I never appreciated it."

She blinked at him, unsure what to name the warm feeling in her chest yet.

"I'll keep laughing for the both of us, just in case you forget," she snarked, refusing to let him (or herself) get gooey, "Bye Abraxas."

He nodded to her and she found herself sincerely hoping he was smart enough to ignore her the next time they were in public together. She didn't know if he'd be left alive next time.

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 **I will be responding to all reviews in the next update as usual. Know that I have read and cherished every single one already though ;)**


	17. The (Un)Usual Suspects

**Hi guys! I hope you are all having a good start to your weekends. Thank you for everyone who has been favoriting, following and reviewing. I had not idea before I started posting here how much a difference the little encouragements made, but I feel so supported from you guys and I just ugh - you are all amazing.**

 **Anyways, without further ado, enjoy!**

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December 6th, 1942

Merissa wasn't sure if she had ever been in this particular lavatory before. After all, Hogwarts had no shortage of them, and she had never had a class nearby. This afternoon, she had taken a lengthy detour to come and scope it out. In the daylight, it was almost easy to believe that the only business happening here was that of a normal bathroom, however she reminded herself that Riddle had been thinking of this place while attacking her. Riddle was a lot of things: a monster, a sadist, an admitted genius and a probable sociopath, but she couldn't believe he was the kind of boy who need to go into a bathroom to sneak a peek. If he was so eager, there were a plethora of girls who would be happy to oblige him - they were giggling in the halls nearly everywhere he went, but he didn't appear to be interested in the first place.

She peered around the large room while pretending to wash her hands. There were a few other girls inside, but no one was acting even slightly suspicious. A pair of older Gryffindor's were leaned up against the sinks and sharing a cigarette, just chatting. Evidently they were in here to avoid the caretaker, who was known to slap butts out of students hands if they were caught smoking inside, not that it stopped anyone. A skinny Hufflepuff had just exited a stall and with only one look at Merissa chose the furthest sink away to wash up. Merissa sighed, shaking the water off of her hands. How could she forget? She was infamous now. Staying as long as she could without attracting more attention, her eyes wandered, but she couldn't find anything special about the room. Resolved to come back later, she went back to her common room.

As she began up the grand marble steps her eyes flickered around, more habit than anything now. She hadn't noticed anyone trailing her since Tom had tortured her, but she wouldn't put it past him. She kept peering behind her on her way and put up a shield charm, though she saw no one. Perhaps the greatest torture she was experiencing was the severe paranoia she had developed.

Once inside the common room, she relaxed masses. Perhaps it was the high vaulted ceilings decorated to look like the heavens or the wide windows that overlooked the ground, but this felt like a safe place. There was too much space to get trapped, as she often felt in the Slytherin common room.

Susan greeted her with a curt nod as she sat down in her usual seat. In the light of recent events, Merissa hadn't taken the time to decode her friend's standoffish behavior and opted rather to act rather as if she didn't notice it - but she did. Susan adjusted her books as Merissa sat down and it did not escape her notice than some larger ones ended up stacked between them. Merissa stared at the tower of books for a moment and sighed before beginning to spread her schoolwork out on a table, with the intention of starting on a paper she had prioritized. All of her sulking around the castle had distracted her not only from friends, but also from an otherwise impeccable focus on her work this year. Although exposing Riddle's secrets was a markedly stronger form of revenge, one upping him in school was the only thing she had successfully done against him so far, so she figured she should stick to it if everything else failed.

"How long did you make your essay for Binns?" she asked, glancing over at Susan's work. The other girl shifted her shoulder block Merissa's view, but did not respond. Merissa stared at the back of her silky black head before shaking her own and returning to her work.

She has finished a generous chunk of said paper when Thomas bounded down the stairs and flashed her white teeth when he spotted Merissa at once. Lately, it hadn't been uncommon for him to have to track her down for prefect rounds.

"I thought I'd have to drag you out of the kitchen again!" he exclaimed, patting her shoulder, "I'm so glad you took my prefect-to-prefect advice about staying out of trouble."

 _Does attacking and spying on the Heir of Slytherin count as staying out of trouble?_ she wondered, but kept her snide thought to herself.

"Of course, I live to please," Merissa muttered, packing up her papers, "We have patrol now, right?"

"Like we do every Sunday evening," he was quick to remind her.

Merissa ran to put her bag upstairs in her dormitory, finding Mary inside flipping through a new copy of _Witch Weekly_. She didn't look up as Merissa came in but continued turning the pages lazily, her eyes glued down as if she hadn't heard the rather noisy door open. Merissa threw her a glance as she laid her bag down on her desk, but ultimately decided that she must be imagining the chill from this particular friend of hers. After all, there was no way everyone in her life had changed overnight. She reasoned it must just be her perceptions of them.

When she came back stairs she found herself uncompelled to give Susan a warm goodbye, so instead she marched out the common room door with Thomas. Though patrols were usually filled with him forcing discussions on Hogwart's countless rules on her, that particular evening he was miraculously silent as they walked the upper floors. He even obliged her easily when she asked to patrol the second floor next. It was dark out now and Merissa desperately wanted to catch Riddle in the act, whatever the act might be. Having Edward as a witness also boosted her chance of survival if she succeeded, which was a perk she hadn't considered before.

She pretended to hear something down the hall from her destination, not wanting to appear too eager to go in to the nondescript bathroom. When it turned out to be a squeaky suit of armor she excused herself to use the restroom. Thomas leaned against the wall just outside the door to wait patiently. _Perfect_ she thought as she pushed the door open, _he'll hear anything_.

When her eyes first adjusted to the dim flickering light being throw off by a single lit torch inside, she was disappointed. No one was here. But her eyes narrowed at the torch after a moment and she was grabbed a second later.

She looked around wildly but saw no one, despite the fact she felt a very solid hand clasped over her mouth. Then, she looked closer and found that the hand was there, simply the exact same color as the floor she was looking past it at. Who ever was holding her had a disillusionment charm cast.

"Don't scream," the voice demanded gruffly as she began to wiggle out of its grasp. She responded by biting down hard on the hand. The voice cursed colorfully. As she was drawing a breath to scream, it hissed, "Merlin's bloody beard Re! It's me."

She paused, unsure whether to trust her ears, "Alphard?" she finally whispered.

"Yes! God you're daft," he muttered, "I'm bleeding by the way. Thanks for biting me. Maybe softer next time."

Merissa felt a warmth creeping up her cheek, suddenly grateful for the dim light. She knew he wouldn't be so forward if he were not invisible himself. But, as usual, this was not the time to think of such things.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded. This couldn't be a coincidence. Alphard (or at least she hoped) was not the type to spend any amount of time in a girls bathroom.

"Doesn't matter, there's no time, you need to get out of here."

Merissa's mind was racing and she tried to find where she thought he might be and staring at the spot in stony confusion. He knew more than he had told her, evidently, and now he was ushering her out of harm's way. As usual.

"What?" she asked, folding her arms, unwilling to budge before she had a better explanation.

"He'll be here soon, Re," the disembodied voice warned her.

Her pulse quickened. It seemed he knew far more than her, and even her stubborn resolve dissolved somewhat. Riddle finding her here would be a negative no matter how to panned out. But still, she was a Ravenclaw, and she craved answers. She opened her mouth in one last attempt for information.

"How'd you-"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, "You're going to ruin everything if you don't leave now though. So quickly, please."

She nodded, somewhat reluctantly, "Meet me in my common room in twenty minutes? I'm sure you can answer a riddle."

"Sure sure," Alphard's voice agreed, now pushing her towards the door lightly, "Now get out of here."

She nodded, pulling the door open. Thomas, who was close outside, looked up from his wand, which he had apparently been fiddling with.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"Obviously," Merissa said, starting to walk briskly towards the end of the hall. She didn't want to be caught anywhere near the lavatory, or on the second floor at all if she could help it.

"I didn't hear water. . ." Thomas said slowly.

Her lips pursed together, but she did not slow her pace. She often forgot that although Thomas was in most respects a complete dunderhead, that he was a prefect for a reasons other than his religious adherence to rules. He was intelligent, though in a extremely limited ways in her opinion.

"I was er - powdering my nose," she lied without real persuasion.

"You don't even wear makeup, what would you -"

"Well now I do!"

"Alright."

She glanced at him, suspicious that he would not allow the subject to drop so easily, and she was correct, "So then who did you start wearing makeup for?" he asked, smiling faintly. He certainly thought he was quick.

She stopped, focusing on glaring as she started, "Thomas, that's none of your goddamn business."

"Language Miss Thorpe," a voice came silky behind her. She spun and found Riddle smirking at her from just a few feet away. He must have just come from the stairs.

"It's not yours either," she said frostily, making to walk past him. He blocked her easily, still smiling. He might have meant for the smile to be friendly for Thomas's sake, but she thought he looked more like he was getting ready to eat her.

"Whatever are you two doing here? At this time of night?" Tom asked, widening his eyes at them like the idea of rule breaking was shocking to him As if he didn't break at least twenty a day.

"You are here too," she snapped.

"Of course," he said innocently raising his eyebrows, feigning offense at her shortness with him, "I'm here doing whatever you're doing I'm sure."

She glared at him and crossed her arms in front of her chest, telling herself it was not because she felt threatened, though she did. Could he know exactly why she was down here? He was putting on rather big show. She hoped it was because she had really thrown him off guard, and not because he had prepared this, knowing she would be here.

"Patrolling," Thomas said, coming to her defense, "You shouldn't have patrol the same night as us Riddle."

Tom raised his hands, indicating he was ignorant, "Must have been a mistake in the scheduling. McGonagall does always seems rather overextended."

Merissa's glare intensified. It was no secret to those who spent time enough time at the Slytherin table how he felt about the Gryffindor Head Girl. The slights towards the McGonagall were subtle, yet nearly constant. He had a negative opinion of nearly everything she did. It was unclear whether it was because she was Gryffindor and Head Girl or because she was Gryffindor who was nearly as talented in Transfiguration as him, but something about her peeved him deeply.

"We made the schedules in September," Thomas countered, looking from Merissa to Riddle in confusion. They both ignored him.

Tom leaned to put a hand on her shoulder, which she almost couldn't restrain herself from flicking off, though she knew he was trying to provoke her. He spoke at a distance that would have still been appropriate for close friends, but that made the very hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"Say hello to Black for me, would you Thorpe?" he requested, constructing the expression of a concerned older brother onto his face, "I just keep _missing_ him in the dormitory."

Merissa didn't miss the threat or the implication but gave him a saccharine smile through a clenched jaw.

"He's been sleeping in seventh year dorm now," she told him, although she was sure he knew, "Just didn't feel comfortable in the younger room, I guess, too immature for him. He's an old soul you know."

Merissa felt rather pleased with her comeback for about five seconds, which was the amount of time it took for Tom to respond.

"Certainly, he seems much closer to death than the rest of us," he agreed amiably. He continued smiling while her face drained of color at this, "Must get on patrolling though. Thorpe, Thomas."

He dipped his head respectfully to them both in turn, but his dark eyes were sparkling as they saw just how pale Merissa had turned.

Merissa stared after him for a moment. She was sure he was off to his lair, where Alphard was already waiting for him. More than anything, she wanted to go back, but she was sure at this point any action from her would create more suspicion, so she allowed Thomas to lead her on with their patrol.

"You're in a horrible mood," he observed as she sent a boy to back to his room with a week's detention for being too loud on the staircase.

She ignored him, walking faster down the hall, hoping to catch a couple at the end of it. She was disappointed when no one was behind the tapestry, as it was a common place for snogging. Frowning, she returned the thick woven fabric to the wall.

"I think this is all about Riddle," Edward finally said, having given it much thought.

If she hadn't seen the words leave his mouth, she doubted she would have been able to believe actually said them. She was shocked by his perceptiveness - that was, until he spoke again.

"I think you fancy him, but you can't do anything about because he's your boyfriends best friend, so now you're angry. That's why you were powdering your nose and that's why you wanted to patrol down there in the first place."

Never mind.

"No," she laughed finding actual humor in such a conclusion. Though she supposed from his perspective, it wasn't entirely illogical, "No it's not like that. He's a prat. I just have to deal with him, since him and Abraxas are so close like you said."

 _Also, we're trying to kill each other. Constantly._

"You're using his first name again," Edward noted, falling in stride with her again, "Malfoy," he added.

"Oh, yes," she said, squinting ahead. That was perceptive. Even she had not noticed the shift, "We came to an understanding."

 _I realized without his help I would probably die, but this does not stop me from despising him - which I do_ Merissa thought to herself. She was allowing this misconception of not because she cared about him more dearly than a brother (though Joseph hardly made stark competition) but because it benefited herself. Or at least this is what she told herself.

"I'm glad," he said, "It's not good seeing you so beat up all time."

She watched him differently for the rest of the patrol. It seemed unlikely, but maybe, just maybe, he deserved more credit than she gave him.

/_\

When they returned to the common room, Merissa found that Alphard had yet to come, which couldn't be good. She chose a seat in the far corner of her common room, partially because she knew they would need privacy to speak, partially because Susan had spread her books out over the entire table she was working at, a clear message not to join her. In the time it took Alphard to return Merissa completed the rest of her work and was fully caught up. She had even made her essay for Binns two inches longer than necessary, because Riddle generally made it one inch longer. When Alphard finally swept in, Merissa was perched on the edge of one of the powder blue arm chairs, meeting his eyes as soon as he entered the room. It was far from her usual carefree lounge.

"Alright," Merissa said in a hushed tone as he took the seat next to her, "Convince me you aren't a peeping Tom."

"Ha," Alphard pretended to laugh, pushing his hair back nervously, "Very funny. But Riddle isn't in there for the sights, at least I don't think so."

"What are you doing in there then?" she asked, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

Susan was casting stricken looks at them, but tossed her hair and returned to her work when they made eye contact. Unable to shake the unwary feeling after her encounter with Riddle, everyone was a suspect. Ravenclaws, out of all the houses, were the least likely to be interested with gossip, but Merissa was of the opinion one could never be too cautious. Her paranoia was beginning to integrate into her personality. But for now, other than Susan glaring and a younger student Merissa had never noticed before gawking at them from behind thick glasses, nothing seemed amiss.

"I don't know what he's doing, but that's what I'm doing there: trying to figure it out," he leaned in as he spoke faster, "I noticed he was always gone at certain times of the day. At first I thought he might be in the library - you know, such a pushover (she was sure to scoff at him for this but otherwise allowed him to continue) - but he was leaving the wrong way for that. So eventually I followed him. I was concerned he was doing something to you, but he was going to a girls bathroom. At this point I obviously had to follow him more."

She nodded eagerly, "Go on. What did you see today?"

He hesitated a moment, tugging at the ends of his hair nervously. She was leaned forward, on the edge of her seat, entranced with his story. She was too far in now, and far too stubborn. He was sure, at that moment, that keeping her out of this would be next to impossible. Not that he wouldn't try.

"Nothing," he sighed, "It was my first time inside and he never showed up. I've been sitting in there since you left. Did he see you?"

"Yes," she said crossly, "Not too nearby but still on the floor. He must be airing on the cautious side."

She leaned back into her chair, scowling as she began to pick at one of the bronze bolts on the arm. Alphard seemed to be having just as much of a dry streak as she was. Riddle was being more careful, just as she knew he would when she attacked Lestrange. It helped convince her that she was right, but it also made everything much more difficult. It was easier to catch him when he was being cocky.

"Probably. You unsettle people Re," Alphard told her seriously, hoping to quirk up her lips from her current frown, "It's probably the eyes, you know, they're pretty but have you ever seen such an intense color? Definitely a result of genetic mutation."

She shoved him playfully, displaying the inevitable grin he had been hoping to induce "Shut it, Black. We're both inbred monstrosities. I've seen what you can do with your elbows."

"You should see what I can do with my tongue," he countered, a devilish grin lighting up his chocolate-colored eyes.

"Okay," she said, standing up abruptly and attempting to ignore how his grin widened "Bedtime for the ickle snakie."

She glanced at his face again and saw in his eyes that he was laughing at her. She knew she should have glared at him or wiggled her eyebrows - anything else but what she did, look back down. It wasn't any fair for him to spring comments like that upon her. She had no time to think of a witty comeback, and now her mind was mysteriously blank.

"Sure," he agreed still grinning ear-to-ear, "Meet you tomorrow though, same time? We can talk about peeping Toms again."

She bite her lip, "I don't know if that's a good idea. He might get suspicious."

It seemed that Riddle had eyes everywhere, and he was always suspicious of her, so she thought this was an easy enough of an assumption. Alphard, evidently, felt differently.

"Oh please, Re," he dismissed, rising so that he was grinning down at her, "Not everyone keeps tabs on me like you do."

"You wish," she smirked, moving alongside him towards the door, "See you Black."

"Goodnight Merissa," he said, sobering, "Be careful."

"Goodnight," she waved, smiling brightly, "I will."

She turned to return to her dormitory and the smile slipped off as easily as she had put it on. As she entered back into her room, she found it empty, so she slipped the handful of books she kept between her mattress and box spring at the foot of her bed out. Stacking them on her desk she surveyed them - all books with information about Slytherin of varying forms. Smuggling them out of the library felt wrong, but leaving behind a trail of her research would be worse, so here they were.

"I'm sorry Alphard," she muttered as she took one into her lap, lighting the oil lamp on her desk with a flick of her wrist, "I'm sorry," she repeated, mostly to herself this time because she knew she was digging her own grave, "But I have to know."

* * *

 **More players added to the pool of knowing the entrance's location, this is about to get messy, I assure you (: I hope you all enjoyed this update. Coming again next weekend!**

 **To my phenomenal reviewers:**

Ivet: **I'm** **glad you're liking the Tom POV! I've never written from a guys perspective so its good to know it doesn't sound like hogwash to you. I know I haven't been kind to Merissa lately, and I'm glad you're able to understand why. Tom Riddle has consequences, but she does too! They are both formidable opponents to each other. Much more conflicts to come between them of course and much more time to settle the score. In regards to Abraxas and Merissa, I'm grateful their dynamic is something that has grown on you. They both have incredibly large flaws, but ultimately they care about each other, which is a big part of this story for me. No one is an angel and no one is a devil, they're all just people. If that makes any sense. Anyways I feel like I'm rambling at this point, but I always want to make sure I touch on everything you've mentioned in your reviews since you make them so blessed and detailed. I will for sure be adding chapter titles and quotes when I can, probably not for another month or so, unless I skip an update to do so, which I'd rather not. As always, your reviews mean the world to me and I am so grateful you have stuck with and are enjoying this story.**

TheRavenSlayer13: **Thank you again! Writing this is so much fun, I am ecstatic to know people actually enjoy it. Merissa is having a rough . . . year honestly. But she will push through and make it to the other side. I'm glad she inspires you! She certainly takes hell and is well despite it. Winter break will begin at the start of Act Three, which is three chapters away. I don't know if I've mentioned acts before but I will be adding them once I name chapters, since its how I break the story up. Still much to come until then, including a certain professors Christmas party ;)**

AzraelAvaon: **Hello new friend! Thank you for your review. I hope you're liking this still, more updates just on the horizon.**

SkittleLuvr.x3: **Ahhh! Thank you! It's always great to hear Merissa's sass does not go unappreciated. Tom is rather concerned now, and for good reason. Indeed, imagine the power duo they would be ;) haha. For the moment though, they do seem pretty bent on murder and I hope you can forgive me if I take forever for that not to be the case. Also, yes, yes, yes. I completely mean for that to be there - fully grey characters, stuffed with moral ambiguity. No one's moral compass is set north, though of course they are all of the opinion there's is. Abraxas thinks that doing anything and everything to keep Merissa away from Tom is what is right, just as Merissa will do anything and everything to best Riddle and Alphard doesn't mind keeping Merissa in the dark if it means keeping her out of harms way. Everyone thinks they are right, but in the end, no one is completely. So glad that comes across as so.**


	18. Winter Waltz

**Hello again! This was originally two chapters but they fit better as two, plus I haven't given you guys a longer update in a while so I hopes this makes up for it. I also definitely listened to "She Wolf" by Sia covered by Madilyn Bailey reading over around the last fourth of this chapter and got chills. Just a suggestion it you like such music.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

December 11th, 1942

Christmas break was fast approaching, which was just one of the many worries piling in Merissa's mind. It had been her intention to have a plan by the holidays, but she could not conceive how this would be possible as she had learned nothing new in weeks.

She was greatly limited in how much sneaking she could do (since Alphard was doing plenty of his own). She would have liked to think that her friend was plenty prose, however all he had managed to find out after a week of tailing him was that Riddle had a meeting on the seventh floor before dinner and did something in the bathroom with Lestrange for an hour every evening, which was hardly new information for either Alphard or Merissa, unbeknownst to the other.

Admittedly, it likely would have taken less time if they both didn't have to pretend to know nothing about the situation.

The first night after their encounter, Merissa found herself unable to follow Riddle anywhere because she spotted Alphard already doing the same. Though her promise to stay away from him was not one she intended to keep, it was also one she didn't intend for Alphard to discover her breaking. This wasn't his mystery to solve, and she'd be damned if she let him do all the work while she sat back like a helpless damsel. But if it contented him to think that she was, she would begrudgingly humor him.

Even with this is mind, it was incredibly frustrating to watch Alphard sneak about, as he was not nearly as careful as she would have been.

"That disillusionment charm is good, but what if he comes around the corner too fast and bumps into you Al," she muttered under her breath as she shifted in agitation behind a large shiny suit of armor, watching her friend (or rather the seemingly empty space of air he was occupying) position himself near the entrance of the second floor bathroom.

A moment later, as if drawn by her comment, Riddle came striding down the otherwise deserted hall, Lestrange just a pace behind him. Merissa held her breath as he moved past her hiding place, but he did not give a second glance until he was directly outside the lavatory doors. At this point, he cast a look about, but luckily seemed to find nothing amiss and proceeded into the room, leaving only a split second for Alphard to duck in after him. Merissa recognized Alphard had managed entrance though when there was a slight hesitation in the door closing.

She winced as it finally swung shut, nearly two seconds after it should have, "Idiot," she hissed to herself, but there was nothing she could do at this point except hope Riddle was otherwise occupied.

For the rest of the night on evenings she came here (which was most), she would sit under the suit of armor for hours on end, her only form of entertainment putting her palm against the metal leg in front of her and seeing how fast she could heat it up and cool it back down.

And so went every evening that week, with Alphard concealed in the bathroom and her feeling pointless outside until Riddle would come bursting out, always rather irritated after his visits. Lestrange followed meekly behind.

And every evening, Alphard would find her in the library where he was under the impression she spent these late hours. Escorting her back to the Ravenclaw tower he would update her on the goings of the last few hours, not that there was much to tell. According to Alphard, once they were inside, the two Slytherins would roam the room with seemingly aimless direction, pointing their wands at various spots in the walls and muttering rubbish spells that resulted in absolutely nothing. It just didn't make any sense, which exasperated Merissa, though between the two of them is was unclear who was more frustrated. Alphard'd patience was even shorter than her already clipped one and it was always apparent in his creased brow after these stakeouts. Personally, Merissa couldn't help but think he was missing something but would never be so outwardly arrogant to say such a thing out loud.

"Maybe they're gay lovers," Alphard said thoughtfully as they ascended the stairs together after a particularly dull hour on the second floor. She had been watching just around the corner, though he had found her in her usual chair in the library when he arrived, her school work spread around her innocently, "They just go in there because it's the last place anyone would look for them. They just want to spend time together, too scared to do anything . . . you know."

Merissa's nose wrinkled. The thought of Riddle snogging anyone was mildly nauseating. He was too cold and too self-important to do such things on his spare time, she was sure.

"They only sleep a wall away from each other though," she argued, "If they wanted a place to neck each other, they have it. And they wouldn't have to be in a lavatory."

As they rounded a corner a shy looking housemate of Merissa's who she only vaguely recognized gawked at them. The amount of time Merissa and Alphard spent together had always raised eyebrows, but not that her and Abraxas hadn't been seen together in a month, the rumors had escalated. The girls eyes were like saucers, but perhaps that had more to with her thick glasses than her expression. Alphard exchanged a dark glance with Merissa that confirmed that she indeed would be upset with him if he hexed this awkward third year for their rudeness. It was a loss in his eyes, as he was dying to release some energy. His meetings with Abraxas were tense for a plethora of reasons and the knowledge he would soon need to leave Merissa's company to meet with the blond boy again only worsened this.

"All I'm saying is that Riddle has some very pretty hands," Alphard shrugged, hoping to remedy the hard line that had become Merissa's mouth. He couldn't imagine what was going through her head right now. It seemed to work, as the comment made her snort.

"I don't think we'll get a conviction on that," she laughed.

He glanced at his watch suddenly and grimaced. It was time already.

"I have to go, quidditch meeting. I'll see you later for 'dueling club practice'" he gave her a heavy wink which she rolled her eyes at.

"Bye Al, have a good time with Abraxas," she smirked.

"What?" he demanded, turning back to her at once.

Could she possibly know? It was an awful consideration. He could only imagine how furious she would be to learn that her greatest confidant was feeding information straight back to Abraxas, and even worse, that they were doing it to protect her. Merissa despised being treated as if she was incapable.

But this apparently was not the case, at least for now as her brow furrowed as his response.

"For quidditch?" she explained slowly, examining his curious expression, "He's still captain right? You haven't forced him to abdicate his throne?"

"Oh, of course, right," he agreed, color returning to his face, "I will have to suffer through I suppose. Bye!" he bonded off, in much more of a hurry than usual.

 _Did I offend him?_ she wondered as she watched him retreat. Chewing on her lip, she turned back to the bronze knocker which squawked out a riddle that she solved easily. Entering the airy room, the thought hung over her. He was acting awfully peculiar lately, though it seemed everyone had been, so she couldn't be sure.

Across the common room, Merissa spotted Abby and James tucked away on a small sky colored sofa, already busy with the day's work. She plopped her book bag down on a corner of the table they were using and took a seat on a matching armchair. It was not quite as comfortable as her chair in the library, but she found it to be reasonable enough, especially since it was the only place she could work with her favorite housemates. For reasons Merissa couldn't fathom, Abby detested studying in the library

"Where is Susan?" Merissa asked, her eyes scanning the room but not spotting her raven-haired friend.

Abby gave a wary shrug of her shoulders and Merissa sighed. Susan was yet another person in her life who had been acting strange the past few weeks. She knew she should take initiative and speak to the girl first, but she truthfully had no idea what to make of Susan's unusual moodiness. Merissa felt that her plate was already overflowing with problems, she didn't know if she could bite off anymore at the moment.

On the bright side, whatever Riddle was doing seemed to be consuming enough to relent on Merissa in the last week. She hadn't had any mysterious inconveniences since he had attacked her and she was sure it was no coincidence. In fact, except when she sought him out or when classes forced them together, she hadn't seen him at all.

Deciding she really couldn't ask for anymore blessing, Merissa settled to finish her homework with her friends, though the gap between them where Susan usually sat bothered her all the while.

/_\

Meanwhile, on the fourth floor a massive grandfather clock chimed just as Alphard ducked in a broom closet, finding that his accomplice was already inside. Abraxas sneered up at his arrival, as was customary for these meetings.

"You're late," he snapped as Alphard situated himself on a box of spare goblets used in transfiguration.

The closet was miraculously spacious, at least as far as closets went. The two were already in danger of hexing each other every time they were forced close without the added tension of being pushed nose to nose.

Abraxas was seated on a chair that looked like it might have been stolen from a vacant classroom, his legs crossed so that they might make a little contact with the dusty boxes that occupied the floor as possible. He cleared his throat when Alphard seemed more interested in clearing away a cobweb near his head than responding to him.

Alphard shot him a nasty look and flicked the ball of webs in his direction, though he missed to his own chagrin, "I hate to break this to you, Abraxas, but I think she might have some idea that your boss is behind all of her bad luck lately after his stunt last week," he finally said.

Abraxas brushed off his coat as if he was concerned the mere air held too much dirt for his garments to handle, exhaling through his nose sharply and reminding Alphard of his families racing horses.

"I hardly think Tom's purpose has ever been to be discreet," Abraxas conceded, sounding rather weary despite the sharp edge to his voice. He hadn't been able to sleep well lately as Riddle alternated between being mysteriously gone from the room or being a tyrant. Only yesterday a second year had been hung upside down from the chandelier for almost an hour just for delivering a message from Headmaster Dippet that Tom wasn't pleased with. As always, if he was to have a bad week, everyone else would too.

" _Tom_ ," Alphard repeated mockingly, "Chummy as ever I see."

Alphard felt he had to laugh at it, because if he didn't he began to feel furious about how nonchalantly Abraxas supported Riddle, even when he did such horrible things.

"Hardly," Abraxas snapped, visibly bothered now, "Even though I'm technically reinstated, he has been quite wary to tell me much of anything. I have no idea what else he is planning, because I doubt his ultimate goal was just making Merissa's life inconvenient. But what have you learned this week? More than last I hope."

" _Inconvenient_ ," Alphard muttered furiously, "When she was looking like she might keel over just a week ago, over who knows what," Abraxas gave him a dark look, "And no - I haven't learned anything new. They go in the lavatory together and mutter spells at the walls. I have no idea what they're trying to do, and Merissa is getting more suspicious by the day. I for one take issue with lying to her," he gave the blond boy a deep look of contempt.

Abraxas said nothing, but gave Alphard another irritated flash of his grey eyes, glancing up from his hands, "You must have some idea what he's up to," Alphard insisted, crossing his arms.

"I know he has been having me sneak all over the castle and attempt to break into the come and go room while its occupied, which doesn't work if you've ever wondered," Abraxas repeated for what must have been the tenth time, "But there has to be something else going on."

"Does there?" Alphard asked nervously, "He seems to have plenty on his plate already."

Abraxas gave him a blank stare before laughing humorlessly, a trait he hadn't recognized yet who he had picked it up from, "It's Riddle," he said, shaking his head, "Of course there's more."

/_\

Stories below, Merissa had migrated back to the library, finding herself unable to sit and relax with her friends once their work was done. Abby kept throwing her concerned frowns while James stared into the fire. Without Susan everything felt off. It made Merissa feel like a test subject, and with her life constantly under so much scrutiny, she found more peace here among the books.

Here, at least, she felt like she was doing something, not like she was some sitting duck. She had already fully extended the defensive spells section, so now she had taken to reading up on healing magic in hopes that if something was to go wrong that she would be able to fix herself. She wasn't fond of the idea of spilling a drop more of her blood over Riddle.

With all that was happening, she had nearly forgotten about Slughorn's Christmas party, but was reminded when Abraxas ran into her in a far corner of the restricted section about an hour later. She had been hunting for books on dragon skin cloaks, as the main library seemed unwilling to say much about them when she had spotted a familiar tall frame a moment before he took her arm. He was quick to lead them deeper into the section, not wanting to be spotted being civil with each other. It had been decided mutually that if Riddle remained under the impression they still only nodded stiffly to each other while passing in the hall, that their lives would be kept simpler.

"The party is tomorrow," he stated once they were tucked behind a large shelf. She looked blankly at him so he continued, "I won't be offended if you went with Alphard."

"No," she insisted, just a bit too quickly, making him raise an eyebrow, "I mean, I couldn't," Merissa revised, "I don't mind going just with Susan. She's has been a bit of a git with me lately, but a party is the first step to amends, right?"

"I wonder what she could possibly be upset about," he drawled. She looked even more confused at this, making him sigh in mild exasperation, "You're really thick sometimes, Mer. She fancies Black."

Merissa couldn't pretend to have known this and stopped midway through putting a book back onto the shelf, keeping to suspended above her head as she thought this over.

"Well that's no reason to be upset," Merissa snapped after a moment, straightening proudly and flicking the book back into its home, "I'm not stopping her."

"You are," he assured her, but continued on, ignoring her furrowed brow, "I actually was told to take you though, so maybe its best. Riddle is up to something," he said, resting his hand against the shelf.

"Hmmm," she mused, pretending to be looking for a book as Hufflepuff walked by, throwing them a curious look. They were supposed to hate each other, after all.

"I want to know what he's up to," she said, when they had gone, "He's been avoiding my sneaking."

Abraxas found himself restraining another sigh. Alphard had been quite adamant about Merissa really being done actively seeking out danger, but he had known her longer and had doubted this. The fact that she was still snooping was completely predictable in his eyes, but Alphard had Merissa elevated to near deity status in his mind and was therefore much more prone to believe only the very best.

"You shouldn't provoke him," he reminded her sternly, sounding for a moment like his old self, "Alphard might not have realized what he did to you last week, but I know. You're lucky, Tom must have been in a hurry. Avery once spent a month in the hospital wing from him."

"Why on earth do you put up with him, Ab?" she asked earnestly, grasping his hand, "He's just a vengeful monster with pretty hand - Oh my merlin," her eyes widened, as she looked down at Abraxas' own beautiful hands, grasped her much smaller ones. They were always immaculate and soft, which wouldn't mean anything if it wasn't for everything else that was suddenly coming to her mind.

Gripping his hands tight, she dragged him further into the depths of the library, "You never - well I never - goodness!" she kept her voice at a whisper but was shocked.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably as he realized that she had deduced the very thing he had been trying to communicate to her since the beginning of the year.

"I tried to tell you it wasn't anything wrong with you. . . I recognize that you're very pretty, but I just. . ."

"Don't play for that team," she grinned, making him wince away, "Oh Ab, I could never care about something like that. I'm actually relieved. I thought I was just rubbish at snogging or something."

He refused to look at her, turning rather green, "He would probably murder me if he knew so try not to dwell on it too much."

She laughed, but sobered quickly when she saw just how serious his expression was, "He won't find out from me," she swore, "But I wouldn't be so trusting of anyone else really. Even if Riddle doesn't care, I'm sure Lestrange would."

"Obviously. I am not an idiot Merissa," he said testily, "Any one of them would see it as reason enough to get rid of me. Not everyone is blessed with the power to inspire such Gryffindor-like _loyalty."_

She smirked, returning to her browsing of the shelves, "I know you meant that as an insult, but I don't care."

She was removed enough from their argument earlier this month to apply the words jokingly now. Abraxas however, grimaced at their use.

"How are you so unphased by this?" he demanded, "I'm. . ." he glanced around again though this section of the library was always deserted, "Gay," he finally whispered, "And we're meant to be married in a few years."

She shrugged, "I knew our relationship was mostly show anyways. It's terribly convenient for both of us, and our families, of course. Not that I particularly care about that aspect," her lip curled slightly at the thought as she began flipping through a book on goblin wars, "But we can be happy enough. International ministry galas are filled with wonderful people I hear, as you're obviously going to be the youngest minister England has ever seen," Abraxas scoffed but Merissa could tell he was nearly blushing, "And we can host salons and even have a cute pool boy," she offered him a heavy wink as she returned the book the the shelf, finding it to have little she didn't already know.

He was bemused and shook his head, "You're insane Mer," he told her.

She shrugged again, "Meet me at seven then? Your mother sent me dress robes that look ludicrously expensive as an early Christmas present."

"Ah, I was the one who actually picked those out," he said, brightening slightly, "Unicorn hair stitching. The only downside is now she's picking out the present 'from me'. I can only imagine what it will be, just a warning."

"Thanks," she sniffed, "I should have known, honestly. Your taste is far too refined."

He smiled and patted her head, making her scowl as he went back to his work.

/_\

December 12th, 1942

Abraxas couldn't help but be pleased with his appearance in the long ornate mirror beside his bedside as he carefully combed his hair one last time and made the final adjustments to his dress robes. As it turned out, his mother had not only planned for Merissa's outfit but his own as well, which pleased him. A large package containing ivory robes sewn of glistening hair had arrived only yesterday, a perfect match to the one's had had selected for Merissa. If they were going to go together, they might as well look like the royalty they were.

As he pinched his collar down, though it was already perfectly creased, a dark laugh came from the shrouded depths of Alphard's bed. No one was more bothered by Merissa accepting Abraxas' invitation than Alphard, although he had been told by Abraxas himself that it was Riddle who insisted on it. Even with this knowledge, he had been sulking all day.

Abraxas turned to sneer at him. Alphard had gotten dressed hours ago and had spent his time since then lounging on his bed and heckling Abraxas as he primped himself, all the while nursing a large bottle of alcohol. Firewhiskey, by the smell of it. His robes were wrinkled and untidy at this point, and while this might have been a charming look to some, Malfoy was mildly disgusted by it. How was he supposed to work with a drunk? Though Nott's presence in the room prevented him from making this point, so he was left with their usual bickering.

"Most people wait until the party to get wasted, Black," he snapped.

Alphard waggled a surprisingly steady finger at him. His tolerance was something of the gods, as his bottle had a sizable dent in it now.

"Why wait until tomorrow for what you can claim today," he toasted, raising the whiskey high in the air, "Right Abraxas?"

Nott groaned from the other side of the room. These comments had been coming at a steady stream all afternoon, "Couldn't you just get a wank and shut it Black?" he called, glaring at the two of them, "C'mon Abraxas, have mercy on him. Merissa could use a night out anyways. I see her in the library almost constantly."

Alphard started up furiously, realizing what the other boy was implicating, but was pushed back down by Abraxas who gave him a venomous look.

"Malfoy's are hardly generous enough to share our most prized possessions," Abraxas sneered, turning back to the mirror but daring Alphard to say anything more with his steely eyes. They were acting suspiciously enough without Alphard attacking their dorm mate for speaking vulgarities about Merissa. He knew Alphard could hardly make the distinction of the level of danger between Nott's meaningless coarseness and the ever looming threat of Tom Riddle. He had far too much pride and his head was too hot to ever think anything except passionately. Abraxas hoped to just get through this night without too much trouble, but this was the most hopeless of hopes.

/_\

Merissa had conceded to change into her dress robes only twenty minutes before they were due at the party. They were lovely, yet awfully uncomfortable, which she had grown to associate with one another. Her mother always liked to say 'fashion is pain', but luckily Rosalynn Thorpe was not here tonight to tighten a corset that felt more like a straight-jacket onto her. _Besides, I look far too thin already_ , Merissa thought as she examined her reflection in the Ravenclaw girls bathroom. The light here was bright and gave her face a jarring angular quality. She knew she had to start eating regular meals again, but there always seemed to be something more pressing to do.

"You look frosted," Abby cooed as Merissa emerged from their shared bathroom. She was generally in a bad mood on the night of Slughorn's events, but Alphard had asked her last minute after hearing that Merissa was unavailable, so Abby now had a reason to break out her lilac dress robes, which had been collecting dust in the closet.

This had only infuriated Susan, however who gave a ripping smile that dripped with sarcasm, "You look like an ice queen alright."

Merissa felt awful about allowing Susan's anger to fester for so long as well as not recognizing the source of it so she smiled back the best she could and said, "You look stunning Susan."

Though it was still tempting despite this knowledge to throw back a biting remark in return, Merissa promised herself she would make amends with her oldest friend. Even if it damaged her pride.

Susan breathed something angrily, examining herself in the mirror they kept leaned against the far wall. Her tall frame was artfully draped with bronze and green robes that gave her the appearance of an elegant Christmas tree.

"Oh get over it, Susan," Abby snapped, as she began twisting tendrils Merissa's hair back with experienced fingers, "Plenty of perfectly good gents asked you. It's not our fault you were holding out for someone else. I was happy to even be invited."

"There," she said, said, securing the twists to the rest of the mass of dark waves with a jab of her wand, "You look perfect."

Susan said something that sounded a lot like, 'Perfect prefect witch,' though Merissa thought there might have been a more colorful variation of the last word instead. She ignored her either way, instead recounting in her mind all of the times she had stolen Alphard's attention in the past month as she had been every time Susan became particularly irritating in the last few hours together, which had admittedly been quite a bit. It prevented her indignation from swelling too large at the very least.

She didn't glance in the mirror again as she left with Abby; she trusted her talents. Abraxas and Alphard were waiting for them just outside the common room, both looking pointedly away from each other. Alphard appeared as if he had been drinking, and as they drew closer Merissa found that he smelled like it to. Abby's nose wrinkled slightly as he kissed her hand.

Abraxas smiled as Merissa placed a kiss on his cheek, "You look enchanting," he told her.

"Enchanting indeed," Alphard muttered darkly as he took Abby's arm into the crook of his own. He was put out even further now that he saw Merissa. Her and Abraxas looked like the most dazzling of couples, perfectly dressed and prepared. Her reconciliation with Abraxas had felt like a personal jab, as he couldn't understand the circumstances. Abraxas and himself may have been having secret meetings together, but they were hardly intimate enough to talk about such things, and asking Merissa was out of the question - it would be just be another blow to his ego.

The walk down to the dungeons was spent mostly in silence, the sound of Merissa and Abby's heels clicking on the stone floor and their robes brushing the floor magnified. Merissa began fiddling with the strand of pearls that circled her neck, pulling it from her clavicles as she was wiser than to run her hands through her carefully prepared hair like she wanted to. Alphard only grunted in response to Abby's attempts to make conversation, his hands dug deep into his thick, dark red robes. He was far from his normal jovial self. By the time they had entered the party, Abby was clearly regretting her decision to go with Alphard. In fact, he seemed intent to stand at the drink table and scowl. She smiled and politely excused herself almost immediately, heading towards Thomas and his friends.

Merissa was also quickly distracted by Riddle's arrival just moments after theirs. She wondered if he had been following them. For now at least, he ignored her, allowing himself to be taken up by Slughorn, who wanted to introduce him to a old student. He was wearing suspiciously elegant ebony robes that she doubted were his own, but fit him well either way. He looked dapper and Merissa wasn't the only one who noticed, though she would rather not notice at all.

"Good evening!" Slughorn cried as the stream of guests arriving tapered off. There were a few dozen of them, though a majority seemed to be dates. Slug Club parties were coveted after all, "Thank you all for coming. I hope you are all looking forward to this holiday as much as I am."

His comment was met by polite laughter causing him to swell somehow larger. The buttons on his smoking jacket looked in great danger of popping off and hitting the rather meek looking fourth year Slytherin who was the newest edition of the Slug Club. The boy had his arm wrapped unsurely around the waist of Olive Hornby, which Merissa supposed ruled out ever bothering to learn his name. If he was naive enough to allow himself to become Hornby's ticket he was bound to be dropped from the Slug Club, and therefore any real relevance.

"I'm sure you will all return with fascinating tales," her professor continued warmly, but Merissa was no stranger to his deeper meaning. Those newly added members who came back without stories of spending Christmas eve with high ranking ministry officials or skiing in the high alps would surely be cut. Merissa knew as the rules had been the same when she was first introduced to the club her third year. She just happened to have the benefit of having a father for a high ranking ministry official and a house in the high alps which so often spent Christmas eve in. Some had to fight tooth and nail for their spot and for others it was just an expected gift.

"I won't deny you any longer though. May the party commence!" he declared merrily, just as several servers who she recognized as past (and unsuccessful) members of the club began to circulate the party, holding massive trays of various food and drink.

Merissa snatched a glass of bubbling mead off the nearest tray held by a rejected member of the Slug Club and downed it, receiving a troubled look from Abraxas.

"Dance with me?" he asked nodding his head towards a small ensemble. Merissa glanced over just as a few wizards took up modest stage that had been constructed in the corner of the room began playing a waltz.

She knew he wanted to draw her away from the alcohol, but she agreed anyways. He was admittedly a splendid dancer. She couldn't help but feeling giddy as they spun around the room with all the grace of a swan. Neither needed to lead as they had gotten so used to each other's patterns. They had plenty of time to practice together over the years. Merissa smirked towards Abby who had struck up conversation with Thomas and Abraxas understood, allowing her to tug him across the floor. They bumped into the Ravenclaw prefects back, making him in turn grab onto the small redhead girl for support. Abby turned scarlet at once but she laughed along with Thomas as they regained their cadences. The darker boy looked happy enough, and Merissa doubted it was because of Abraxas' less than heartfelt apology. As they returned to the center of the party, they could see Edward and her had moved from the mass of the group and were talking animatedly as her poured her a drink. Merissa's mood was spiked as Abraxas began twirling her around now, not even allowing herself to be bothered by Riddle's stormy expression as he pretended to listen to Slughorn and glared at them.

They finally collapsed at a table with Abby, Thomas and Alphard after a few songs, giggling. Even Abraxas had been calmed by the familiar feeling, and was in good spirits. Alphard had been looking bored, but he darkened as they sat down.

"Great party, eh Thorpe?" Thomas smiled from across the table, "Your friend is lovely company, I simply can't believe you've been keeping her to yourself all these years!"

Abby looked positively elated giving the chocolate-skinned boy a warm smile, "Susan came by, you just missed her! She's been dancing with a lot of people tonight."

"Good for her," Merissa said, genuinely smiling for the first time in weeks. Even if her friend was avoiding her, she was glad she could have a good time, "You should really catch her for a dance Alphard. She looks so splendid, don't you think?"

Alphard had been moodily picking at seam of his dress robes, but upon her comment he glared up at them, taking their flushed cheeks and smiles as personal insults. Indeed, it seemed as if everyone was getting what they wanted, even Riddle. Everyone but him that was.

His lip curled, as he spat, "When did you get so shallow Thorpe?"

His comment stung, but she allowed that she might have deserved it. She _had_ made the comment in hopes it would push him the direction of noticing Susan. Tightening her jaw slightly she said, "I just want you to have a good time instead of sulking here."

"You make that very difficult while you're waltzing around with someone who by all means we should both despise. But you seemed pleased enough to forget how he hurt you."

She pursued her lips, "Don't be dramatic. I'm fine. And this is a party."

"I never took you for someone who was okay being someone's last priority," he growled, starting up, "You will never mean more to him than his precious Riddle. Why I bet he -"

But Abraxas had stood up faster, wand held high, "Not another word Black."

His warning sounded deadly enough to make Alphard leave, but not before his eyes shot daggers into both of them, "You two deserve each other."

Abraxas sat back down, shaking slightly. Merissa gripped his knee under the table, feeling sorry for him. She knew this was difficult for him already without being provoked. It was hard for her too, not being completely honest with anyone, not even herself. She only hoped other combative individuals would stay away, though just as she was thinking this she noticed Tom striding over flanked with his usual cronies, evidently having escaped his dull conversation with the host.

To her dismay, Riddle took Alphard's vacant seat, Lestrange and Avery taking up beside him.

Everyone's face displayed varying states of discomfort upon their arrival, including Phillip himself. The bulky sixth year gave a weak smile to Abby, who he had sat beside. Abby frowned at him, knowing all too well how these arrivals would halt conversation.

"What is a party without some angst?" Tom asked, smiling across the table at Merissa, looking uncannily like a snake observing a particularly juicy mouse. Apparently he had seen Alphard storm off and deduced enough.

"A good one," Edward said testily. He was displeased with the tension the boy brought into the room, especially when he had been enjoying himself, "Would you like to dance Abigail? Your date has seemed to abandon you."

Abby looked delighted, but flinched along with the rest of the table as Riddle clapped his hands together and said with false zeal, "Oh a dance! How lovely. You wouldn't mind if I stole your date for a moment, would you Abraxas? Of course you won't, what am I saying," he seemed to revel in Abraxas' horrified expression.

Standing, knowing this was no request, Merissa kept her face flat as he lead her rather forcefully out to the floor. He smirked over her head at Malfoy, who was staring, mouth slightly agape.

"You look like you are ready to be ravaged Miss Thorpe," Tom murmured into her hair, making her shiver, "You should be more careful. You wouldn't want anyone to be tempted."

It seemed colder in here now, and she felt exposed, though her dress went past her knees and her collar ended only a few inches under her collar bones. She felt naked.

"I doubt you are tempted to do anything except wring my neck Riddle," she said coolly, looking past his shoulder. He was not quite as tall as Abraxas, so she managed to see past his frame at the party goers. They were attracting a fair amount of stares.

He was leading her, with not nearly as much flair as Abraxas had been, but still sure in his steps. She wondered where he would have ever learned this, before deciding his iron grasp on her waist was more pressing of an issue.

She looked steadily at him saying nothing, knowing he would get the point faster if she did not humor him. He fed off of her irritation and if she wasn't careful she could be stuck here all night with him taunting her. So she said nothing of how he was crushing her hand or how her side ached from his grasp.

"That is true," he agreed, though his tone was kept as nonchalant as if they were discussing the weather, "But not yet. Why is your boyfriend following me around Thorpe?"

She blinked, looking back at his face suspiciously. He didn't appear to be telling a joke, though she admitted he was difficult to read. The same surreptitious smirk played across his face whether he was mocking her or warning her that her life was in jeopardy.

"Probably because you order him to," she deadpanned.

He snorted, sounding incredibly normal for a moment. Her eyes widened and she felt the need to draw back. Normalcy on his face evoked a strange frightening feeling in the pit her stomach. But he resumed his normal unreadable mask after a moment, not even taking in her reaction before he said, "Not Malfoy. Black."

Her heart stuttered and she quickly began to scan the room for something to focus on so her face did not betray her. Eventually, she settled on Olive Hornby who was making her rounds with the majority of Slytherin house as usual, her date long forgotten. She focused her distaste on the girl completely before she trusted herself to speak.

"I wasn't aware you added him to your little group," she said, managing to keep her voice smooth as if the pause had been natural,"That would explain why he's acting like such a twat though."

"I would never stoop so low as to need the services of a blood traitor," he informed her, deadly calm, "Which is why his dogging perplexes me."

She made to break away from him while she said, "Well I have really no idea why anyone would want to follow you around then, especially since you're such a boring little -" she was prevented from telling him what a gnome bite in the arse he was, because he suddenly yanked her forward so that their noses were almost touching.

"Do not lie to me," he seethed baring his teeth at her. Her eyes were wide as she felt his labored aspiration on her forehead and his vice like grip on her wrist.

"You're about to leave a mark you know," she finally said, as his grip was increasing with every second that ticked by without a response.

"And?" he snarled, unwilling to release her.

"And it's going to be hard to pretend to be the golden boy if the girl you were seen arguing with at a Christmas party has bruised wrists right where you were gripping her the next day," she told him factually, though she kept her voice low.

His eyes flashed around, the crowd and saw that indeed some people were outright staring at them. Tom never was anything but indifferently polite to anyone, at least according to most people. Abby looked like she might faint, hanging onto Thomas's arm for support. It seemed he had momentarily forgotten that they were not alone.

Tom carefully removed his grip from her arm and moved back.

"I'm sorry we cannot agree, Riddle," she stated frostily, louder this time. She had been frightened, but more than that she was pleased in his reaction. He must really be up to something if he was this bothered by her interference. It was a setback that he had found out about Alphard's spying, however this was more evidence that she was on the right track. He didn't know about _her_ spying after all.

"It's no matter," he said, regaining a polite cadence, "Have a good evening Miss Thorpe."

He walked away swiftly and the party shakily resumed. She was getting a lot of looks tonight, and she doubted it was because of her robes. She snatched another glass of mead as Abraxas came over to her flanked by Abby, Thomas beside her. Abraxas took the glass from her and chugged it, lacking all his usual manners before crushing her into the nook of his arm.

"What the hell Meri," Abby whispered, "Were you fighting over Abraxas' honor or something?"

"No," Merissa said emotionlessly, watching Abraxas throwback another drink like it was water. This was it, she had finally driven him to drink.

"Did you see Alphard?" Abby asked.

"No," Merissa replied dully, "But I'm sure he disapproved of everything I just did."

She could just imagine the lectures she would be receiving from both him and Abraxas when they had the chance. At this rate, they would surpass even her mother's usual frequency. And it certainly made her feel like a child.

"Well, he did look unhappy when he saw you and Riddle," Abby admitted, "But I meant him and Susan."

"What?" Abraxas looked up from his third drink.

"They were necking, in the middle of the party," Abby hissed, sounding scandalized. Merissa squinted out into the crowd knowing she should feel something at this, yet couldn't quite bring herself to, "Of course Susan has wanted that for months now, but they're both absolutely wasted. I'm worried he just did it to prove a point."

"Or because he's wasted," Merissa muttered, her eyes narrowing further as they scanned the room with greater intention, "Did they leave?"

"Susan did," Thomas offered, making all eyes flicker to him. They had forgotten he was there, even Abby, "She didn't look too pleased when Alphard was gawking at you and Riddle after they kissed. Maybe not the best flirting on your part, by the way Thorpe. Riddle looked more furious than anything."

"Yes," Merissa said bitterly, not able to find amusement in his misconception as she usually would have been able to, "I noticed."

"Wow," Edward sighed appreciatively, taking in Abraxas's neutral expression as he tossed back another glass, "You're awfully calm about it Malfoy."

Malfoy choked on the mead he was downing, before looking down at the boy disdainfully, "Go away Thomas, or I'll have your father's job."

Edward hurried away, glancing at both of them like they were insane. Abby's expression became more nonplussed by the moment.

"I don't. . ." she wrinkled her nose, "You and Riddle aren't . . .You always said he was a bore."

"I don't think that anymore," Merissa replied grimly, "But it's nothing like that, no. It's just easier if that's what everyone thinks."

Abby frowned in frustration but it was Abraxas who spoke, "Nothing you want a part in Bach."

Abby stared after them, a thick crease on her brow as they moved away, Abraxas clutching Merissa's hand like a life line, "You need to get out of here," he muttered and she nodded. For once she had no protest to his suggestion.

They managed to evade Slughorn as they swept to the door, before having it blocked by Alphard. He was swaying ever so slightly, but he was staring determinedly at them.

"I'll take her back, Malfoy," he said, managing to sound quite stern despite slurring significantly.

"You're hardly in any condition to be walking by yourself, Black," Abraxas commented down his nose, but Merissa stopped him with a hand.

"It's okay Ab," she assured him with a squeeze, making Alphard narrow his eyes at the return of her childhood nickname for him. He thought they must have reconciled in a much more intimate way to be acting like this.

Abraxas was skeptical but nodded, placing a kiss on her forehead before striding back into the party, planning to occupy Riddle for as long as he could.

Once they were alone, she let Alphard take her arm, more concerned that he might fall if she did not. He glared at the ground as they walked in silence for several minutes before she said softly, "So Susan."

His glare intensified as if the stone ground had greatly wronged him, "You forgave Malfoy for allowing incredible harm to come to you by the hands of his best friend - who I might add you then provoke in the middle of a party - and I get dragged across the coals for kissing your friend."

"I didn't say anything of the sort," she reminded him calmly, "But I don't think doing that intoxicated was the wisest, since you don't seem so interested sober."

The harsh expression slide from his face for one of shame, "I wouldn't have done anything if I wasn't so drunk," he admitted.

"That's what I was worried about," Merissa said sternly, "She's going to be humiliated."

He grimaced. She knew Susan better than anyone, so she was undoubtedly right. He didn't feel any animosity towards her friend, but he also didn't feel much of anything. He had been impassioned and drunk enough after arguing with Merissa that kissing Susan hadn't seemed like a bad idea. She was very pretty after all, even if she did lack ocean colored eyes like Merissa's, which were regarding him with such dissaproval now. Even then.

"I'll talk to her tomorrow," he swore, running a hands through his hair uncomfortably.

But," he added, looking at her with renewed disgust, "What exactly did Malfoy have to do to earn your favor? Did you two finally. . ."

She glowered at him her chin jutting out, which made his face break into a smile, "What reason could you possibly have for smiling right now," she huffed.

"You didn't," he said, his usual grin back as he began to swagger beside her, "You platonically made up."

She moved her eyes to the steps ahead of them, deeply perturbed. It was lost to her how something like this could brighten him when they had so many other problems. But she allowed that he was rather drunk, as practiced as he might be a hiding it.

"I don't see how that matters, first of all," she muttered darkly.

"I'm glad," he said, now more serious, but still clearly pleased, "Having someone on the inside is valuable."

"He knows," she told him, recalling her confrontation and stopping him as they had reached the final landing, just outside the entrance of the common room. She pulled his hands into her own, making him meet her earnest eyes "We need to stop now, while he still might leave us alone."

He was no longer amused, "I know you better than that Re," he frowned, admitting it both to her and himself, "You just don't want me involved now that he's wise. You aren't stopping anything until he's paid for what he's done. No one holds a grudge like you."

Her face pinched in frustration as he was completely correct.

"It's not your battle to fight Alphard," she insisted, pulling on his hands again as his eyes had wandered to the window behind her. In reality, it was too hard for him to look at her like this and deny her anything. She was stunning, lit from behind by a half moon and her lips still painted crimson for the party. With her hair pulled away from her face the delicate structure of her expression could have been made of spun glass. He knew it would break his heart to meet her eyes right now.

"Al," she murmured, frowning as he resolutely looked anywhere but her face. The sound of her voice almost brought him to his knees. She really had no idea the effect she had on him, and that made it all the worse.

He finally met her eyes, his own ablaze even in the dim torchlight, "I've been fighting for you for a long time Re," he told her, amazed when he didn't choke on his own words. He had many times before. She shook her head, but he suddenly gripped her waist, pulling her in. She looked at him with wide doe eyes as he hesitated a moment before quickly dropping onto her lips with his own, concerned she would push him away. Terrified that she wouldn't want this and shove him back either with her own arms or a flash of magic

But she didn't. She responded to him naturally, making him pull her tighter and kiss her harder. He was not soft or calculated as Abraxas had always been. He was holding nothing back, comfortable and pleased. His lips were pleasantly warm, yet burned with firewhiskey, which suddenly reminded her that he had been doing this with Susan only twenty minutes ago. She pushed him away.

"No."

He opened his eyes, irritated, "Why not?"

"Susan. . .and Abraxas," she said.

He sighed and let her go. Her reasons were predictable, though not nearly as awful as he had imagined. It wasn't because she hated him, or because she fancied someone else. Still, Abraxas was hardly a pleasant hindrance to think of. Her parents liked him almost as much as Joseph and it was impossible to believe she'd ever be allowed out of their arrangement.

"What happened to Malfoy cares about Malfoy?"

"Even if he does, that's no excuse to cuckold him," she frowned crossing her arms. She liked to believe she was better than that, even if she sometimes doubted it.

"You're so concerned with everyone's feelings but mine," he bit back, "Did you ever consider how toying with me might make me feel Thorpe?"

She refused to allow him to guilt her, "I have never given you reason to think I was interested in you Black," she callously responded.

His jaw tightened but he refused to back down, "You just kissed me."

"You attacked me and I pulled away," she argued.

"After kissing me back."

"You're delusional."

"You're the one who doesn't remember kissing me."

"Because it didn't happen."

He rolled his eyes at her, "Sometimes I wonder why I bother."

"Me too," she retorted, "I can't be with you, nor do I want to be."

"Liar."

They both were glaring at each other, but they were in close proximity again, as they had tried to make their points. Merissa suddenly was concerned he might kiss her again. Or was she excited that he would? She couldn't be sure. Instead he took a deep breath and stepped back. She crossed her arms across her chest.

"How cozy," a voice came from the entrance of the common room. Merissa whipped around and found it was Susan. She was relieved for a moment, before she wondered how long she had been there. Given the dark look on her face, a while.

"What are you?" Alphard sputtered, looking positively shook.

"I came to put your cat out," Susan viciously gestured at Charles, who was slinking around their ankles now, "But now I see nothing of yours need help getting around."

Merissa felt a harsh sting in her eyes at this comment, but refused to let any tears form, instead snapping back with equal venom, "How witty. However I mysteriously lack a memory of you informing me of laying claim on anything."

Susan sneered at her, an expression Merissa have never seen directed towards her before, "Yes well, we can't all have so many possessions can we?"

"I'm not a bag Nigellus," Alphard snapped heatedly, "And this isn't her fault. She told me no. You know how I feel."

"I do know how you feel!" Susan cried, tears springing in her eyes. Merissa attempted to take her hand, dropping her pride as she saw how deeply hurt her friend was, but Susan smacked her arm away, her voice hitching as she spoke to Alphard, "And I could lived with it too! I just didn't know she felt that way. And I don't think she knows either."

Alphard now looked equally hurt, his eyes flashing to Merissa, who refused to comfort him now. Susan was right. She didn't know.

"I don't feel anything, except exhaustion from hearing you two bicker!" Merissa snapped, ignoring the deepening of his wounded expression, "Be together or don't! No one is stopping you. I've got bigger problems."

Without another word, she stomped into her room, tearing off her robes, some silver beads popping off the ivory fabric as she did so. As they rolled into the corners, she threw herself down in her bed, in just her slip. Her chest rose unevenly, as her breaths came sporadically.

She was surprised when no tears came. Several minutes went by and the pain subsided, so she moved herself diagonally across her bed to look past her bed hangings and out the moon roof. She was calm now, as she considered the stars. Today had been awful, but she was still alive, unharmed too. Tomorrow she could begin to make amends to Susan, to Abraxas, to Alphard. And to herself too, if she was honest. Tomorrow she thought groggily, as she heard someone enter the room, though she couldn't tell who. For now she would sleep.

* * *

 **I will be responding to reviews in the next update which will come next weekend, etc etc. All the usual. And of course, thank you to everyone who has been giving me feedback! It really helps keep me on track, and I appreciate it :)**


	19. Clandestine Cloaks

**Hello dearest readers! I know I generally post on Fridays and I don't really have a good excuse for being late other than I've just been swamped with school as usual, so I apologize. I may start posting a bit less frequently for the last bit of this semester partially because I'm dying TM and also because I've really been wanting to go back and fix the plethora of typos I've noticed reading through again. If anyone knows a Beta looking for a story I would sell my soul for that, just putting that out their. That being said I am so so so appreciative of every single person who has read this far, following or not. Its incredible to look at my stats and see the huge variety of places you all are from - just super cool stuff.**

 **I'm not sure if you all would be interested by I do have a tumblr and pinterest for these stories under my penname (dakotasilverlock) so if you gave it a follow I could definitely try to be more active with that, since for right now I just use them for my own story boarding and such.**

 **That being said and without any further ado, here is chapter nineteen and yep, you guessed it:**

 **Enjoy!**

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December 20th, 1942

The Hogs Head, while not sounding like a quality establishment, had surpassed both Merissa and Abraxas' expectations for the very last place in Hogsmeade anyone would look for them, which of course had been the point when selecting it as a meeting place.

It was rather new to their understanding, having just been opened up by a middle aged man who had strangely familiar twinkling eyes. Merissa had been watching said owner for the majority of their time inside this dusty tavern, not because he was particularly good looking, but rather that he was chasing an escaped goat, weaving through the mismatched tables and shoving chair aside as he went.

Apparently, this didn't seem to be an unheard of occurrence, for other than Merissa, all the customers kept their eyes on the layer of grease on the bar in front of them or casting looks ranging from curious to hungry down at Abraxas and herself.

After all, their thick cloaks and fur boots stood out like a sore thumb. By the array of people who were seated throughout it was clear that the Hogs Head was not a place where well to do people went, and as Merissa pulled her sleeve with some difficulty off of a acid green sticky spot on her chair, it was not difficult to imagine why that might be.

But they were here for a reason, she reminded herself, so she suppressed her disgust for a moment to listen to what their supplier was telling Abraxas.

"That'll be thirty galleons each," the scraggly man muttered, holding out a dirty leather pouch expectantly across the bar counter towards Merissa.

"That's theft," Abraxas sneered, nudging her to keep her hand from moving into her bag for her coin purse. Merissa straightened up and nodded curtly as if she had been thinking the same thing. In reality, she had almost no experience with these sort of deals and would have paid that without blinking. It seemed a small price to escape this horribly grubby man's presence. The air drafting over from him was thick with the smell of sweat and fermenting liquor which stood out clearly even with similar scents permeating throughout the room.

"We'll do not a knut over ten. These don't even look quality," Abraxas continued, taking the hem of the cloak between his fingers and rubbing it, demonstrating how thin it was for Merissa, who leaned over and scoffed.

"What are they, just cotton?" she asked flicking her hair back in disgust. Though she had no idea, what was a proper one made of? Cotton could have been the gold standard.

"These are the finest silk on the market these are!" the man cried indignantly, before lowering his voice, beady eyes flickering about the dingy room, "I'll knock it down to 20 because your father and I have such a close work relationship, little Thorpe."

Merissa smiled at him. She may have been new to illegal tradings, but she was a veteran at manipulations, and she was hardly about to be outmaneuvered by a slippery thief.

"Sorry, but one letter about how you're doing dirty business with his sweet daughter and you're out of contraband wands. Ten. Before I get greedy."

"Ten for both," Abraxas interjected, making the man pale in horror, "Because you tried to swindle us. I'm sure you know what the Malfoy name means in your line of work."

Certainly he did, Merissa thought, smirking down at him. The Malfoys had quite the reach in almost all places, and the black market was far from an exception.

"You'd be robbing me," he dared argue, making Abraxas raise his eyebrows, "I-I'm just meaning Mr Malfoy sir, that I paid four times that. I was already giving you a discounted rate of course."

"I highly doubt that you paid anything," Merissa replied dryly, "I heard from my dear brother that there was a large amount of cloaks missing from a delivery to Borgin and Burkes last week."

The man looked angry, but was evidently more intimidated as he accepted the money Abraxas had pushed forward to him, missing the mischievous grin he gave Merissa as he did so. She wiggled her eyebrows at him before giving the short man a condescending smile as she took the cloaks from him, not even allowing the man's skin to touch her ivory gloves, "Pleasure doing business with you, Fletcher."

Fletcher hobbled off, his gait impeded equally by his round potbelly and sizable trunk, muttering angrily all the way out into the frosted street. With him gone, Merissa and Abraxas looked even more out of place in the foul establishment. Abraxas had refused to even sit down all the way, barely touching his robes to the chair which was admittedly a disturbing grey color. Merissa had laughed at him, but found herself avoiding touching the bar counter with her bare skin herself.

"You were generous with him. You probably could make a better invisibility cloak yourself," Abraxas said, taking a sip of the coffee he ordered and grimacing at the taste, "Disgusting. But Orion Fletcher is the worst kind of scum."

Merissa put her own cup down, not caring to try the gray foggy contents anymore, "I am benign on occasion," she allowed, "Call it a Christmas miracle."

The two of them had been sneaking around together all of this week, it being the first week of their holiday. Riddle had been kind enough to allow them to make up in the public eyes, nevertheless they decided it would be wisests to pretend they were still upset with each other, even if their understanding of each other had reached an entirely new level. Now that they had an understanding, Abraxas had confided her that he too wanted to know what Riddle was up to, though he had left out the part where Alphard had been spying with him. It had seemed pointless as Alphard had not spoken to her nor her to him before he had left on the Hogwarts Express for the holiday.

So for now, it was just the two of them sneaking around the castle looking for what they could. Striking up trade with Orion Fletcher seemed a small price to pay to get their hands on invisibility cloaks which would be undoubtedly make this much easier.

"C'mon, let's go," Abraxas said rising and throwing a sickle onto the table, "We aren't going to drink those and you're attracting far too much attention."

She looked up at the bar, and saw that although it was mostly empty, there were a handful of day drinkers, all of whom were eyeing her as if she was a decadent dessert. She gave them a very Malfoy-ish sneer and swept out of the building, making Abraxas quirk up his lips slightly as he followed her. They didn't spend long outside, though the cool air was pleasant after the muggy heat of the tavern. Instead, they ducked into a small bookstore, not wanting anyone important to spot them together. It was a Hogsmeade trip and although not many people remained at Hogwarts during the holidays, everyone who had seemed to be in the village today.

The shop bell tinkled as they entered the cramped shop. A small wizard was perched behind a large and heavy looking desk turned his head at the sound of the door. He waved at them as they entered, his owl-like opaque blue eyes focused just a few feet to the left of them.

"Blind," Merissa mouthed and Abraxas nodded. They really couldn't have come into a better place then. No witnesses.

Merissa puresed the dusty shelves as Abraxas followed her, pausing at a table to pick up a book that looked promising for their purposes. His eyes skimmed the contents as he said under his breath, "Are you looking for stuff about you-know-what?"

She glanced at the shopkeeper, who seemed interested in something on his desk, "Yes," she confessed out of the corner of her mouth, looking back at the books, "I haven't had a chance to check this shop yet."

Abraxas had been helping her do some research since their "understanding" on the chamber Dumbledore had spoken of. She had told him that this civality was only temporary while they both shared a common interest - that being discovering Riddle's secret - but she found herself falling back into familiar patterns with him. They worked well together and Abraxas was glad to be sharing secrets with someone other than Alphard, even if it did mean actively encouraging her to stick her nose into Slytherin business. He had concluded that Merissa would either way, and at least like this he could keep any eye on her.

Alphard, however, had not been pleased with his decision.

"I'm sorry, you what?" Alphard had demanded when Abraxas told him he was now plotting with Merissa.

"It is entirely futile to try and stop her. You know her well enough to know that is true, Black," Abraxas had replied calmly. He knew Alphard was still rather sore about Merissa rejecting him, something she had been quick to cofide him in, much to Alphard's chagrin.

"Hardly, Malfoy!" Alphard raged, starting to pace the otherwise vacant dormitory, "She doesn't need any help sticking her neck out and I can't do anything now - she's been avoiding me like the plague."

"Does that always happen when you snog people, Black?" Abraxas had asked cooly, making the dark haired boy storm out into the common room.

While it had felt good in the moment to antagonize him, Abraxas underestimated how wounded Alphard's ego was. They hadn't met since - Alphard was blowing him off. This was less than ideal timing for the main spy to bow out, but Abraxas had done his best despite this.

Unfortunately, Riddle was still too suspicious of him to be in on whatever he and Lestrange were doing in the bathrooms at night, but with their combined efforts, Merissa now had several ideas. Though it had been quite some time since they had reason to do so, their collaboration was seamless, and sorting through the small bookshop was no different, wordlessly taking up opposite sides of the main rack to split the load.

"These shelves are a mess," Merissa noted, "There's no order to anything, the books are just randomly shoved everywhere."

"He is blind, Mer," Abraxas scoffed in an undertone, putting down _Founder and Findings_ after discovering it was a detailed account of the founders of the first quidditch league, not Hogwarts as he had hoped, "What did you expect?"

"He must have a helper," she insisted as she pulled a book from the cracks of a loveseat and shoved it onto the shelf. She wouldn't stand for a disorganized bookshelf, no matter the circumstances, "This is hopeless without a guide though."

She turned and went to the man, smiling before she realized he would not be able to see her expression, "Excuse me sir? My friend and I are looking for a books on the founders of Hogwarts. We are students you see."

She glanced at Abraxas for approval at her story. He nodded encouragingly, thinking she was acting quite innocently. She was a decent liar when she needed to be.

"Hmm," the man hummed thoughtfully, "Any particular founder you want to know about? All of them is pretty broad."

The two students exchanged a look. It seemed past unlikely Riddle would be through enough - or insane enough - to interview a shopkeeper on such things, and even if he did, it wasn't as if this man could given him a description of them. Merissa nodded slowly before Abraxas cleared his throat and replied, "Slytherin."

"How interesting!" the man exclaimed, "I have a young man come in the other day wanting similar books. Is there a class that's asking for it?"

"Er- yes sir," Merissa lied, exchanging a more frantic look with Abraxas this time, "What was the boy's name? I wonder if he's in our class. . ."

"He didn't say, though he was an awfully polite boy. Almost as tall as your friend Miss."

All the color from Abraxas' face had drained, through Merissa didn't need to look at him to know this. She could tell by the way his frame had stiffened out of the corner of her eye. Her own face did not change color, maybe because nothing Riddle did surprised her anymore or maybe because she was already so light that her complexion was no longer variable.

"Forgive us - we thought you were blind sir," she said, her voice raising an octave with her nerves. This was hardly going as planned.

"Oh mostly," he laughed, misunderstanding the cause of her panic, "I can still see faint outlines though. Nothing to worry about."

Merissa disagreed, worrying away as Abraxas asked, "Did he find anything? Just since we have the same assignment, I imagine we could use the same book."

Abraxas shrugged at her as he spoke, indicating he thought it was worth a go. She jerked her head in affirmation, though she was hardly happy about it. She would have loved to run back out into the streets, but she knew he was the planner and she should trust his intuition over her own fickle fancies.

"Yes yes," the man said, coming to his feet enthusiastically, "I know just where I have other copies too, since I was there so recently."

Merissa sincerely doubted this but followed him anyways. He lead them with surprising speed to a long shelf, finding his way adeptly, hand moving along the books.

"Here they are," he said, and Abraxas leaned forward to read the binding outloud, " _Salazar Slytherin : Secrets and Skepticism_. Is that it?" the shopkeeper bobbed his head.

"We'll take a copy."

Less than ten minutes later, Merissa took the book which now wrapped in brown paper, from Abraxas as they went outside. It was snowing now, dusting the shops and catching on their robes.

"I don't sleep in the same room as him," she explained, tucking the package under her shirt for good measure. You can never be to careful, a near frantic voice inside her head reminded her.

Abraxas nodded and they both walked in silence for a moment. With their hoods drawn tight it was difficult to recognize the pair, but they both knew they would have to be off in seperate directions soon. Merissa felt an uncomfortable shifting in her stomach at the thought. Everyone from her house had vacated for the holiday, the whispers of Grindelwald's eminence ever louder in their parents ears, and any member of Slytherin she would have once considered a friend was now lurking around with Riddle or gone as well, so she was left on her own whenever Abraxas was unavailable. Solitude had never bothered her before, but lately being left with her own thoughts was more haunting than reflective.

Reading her expression, Abraxas gestured down the street to the three broomsticks, "Fancy a drink?"

She frowned at him. He was hardly one to forget things, particularly rather important lies they had constructed for the benefit of others. After all, they had feigned a relationship for nearly five years, pretending to dislike each other should be effortless.

"That sounds like a terrible idea. We hate each other remember?" she reminded him.

"Yes," he agreed, "Which is why we're going to get into a fight. We just ran into each other in the street."

A smile crept over her face as she considered him. Without another word she walked off quickly ahead of him as they neared the more populated part of the village. She made a slight detour around the building so that she could bump into him coming around the corner, right in the window of the three broomsticks.

"Oh it's just you," she hissed in a loud whisper as they collided. Several students waiting for tables outside glanced at them, hoping they might squabble. No one had forgotten how brutally he had stunned her just a few months ago and some itched for more. It had been a rather dry at Hogwarts otherwise.

"Yes," he said, stonily, "What are you doing here?" he pretended to lower his voice but really just made it sound muffled as he accused, "Were you here with Black?"

She could have laughed at his reasonable conflict topic if it weren't for her audience. But almost a dozen eyes were trained to them, so she sublimated by looking offended instead, "No, I am here by myself. Black is in Switzerland already. I was just going to get a butterbeer, but I can go-"

"No," he insisted, taking her arm roughly, "Just get a table with me. We will wait twice as long if we don't."

The owner of The Three Broomsticks owner was good friends with his father, and they were always seated immediately when he mentioned it, but this gave them a reason to sit together for those who knew that they were supposed to still be fighting. They waited outside, eyes averted away from each other and arms crossed in front of them. Merissa kicked at the snow, launching an explosion of white fluff into the air in front of her. Abraxas feigned an exhausted sigh as her childish behavior.

They were seated suspiciously quickly despite the long line, most likely because the hostess had recognized them. Abraxas pulled her by her upper arm to their seats, a deep scowl plastered to his face. Merissa spotted Riddle before they had even sat down and gave a tiny jerk of her head so that Alphard would notice as well, though she found his grey eyes were already shooting glances at the back of the dark haired boy's head. She really did feel sorry for him when she recognized the conflict in his expression. How awful it must be to feel anything for such a monster.

Tom was speaking with Lestrange and sipping a butterbeer, facing away from them. He looked so normal at times like these, just an above average looking fifteen year old chatting with a friend. But Riddle was a psychopath and he certainly didn't have friends, Merissa reminded herself as she sat. It was easier to let her disdain take center stage now that Lestrange had seen her and appeared to be speaking quickly, informing Riddle of the pairs entrance, no doubt.

She forced her eyes down at the table as Abraxas ordered for the both of them. She looked up again when their drinks came and saw Riddle was smirking at them over his shoulder. Their eyes met for a moment and she found herself momentarily immobilized by his dark gaze before Abraxas hissed into his butterbeer, "Stop staring and argue with me, Mer."

She tore her eyes away from Tom and put on her best hurt expression, "I can't stand when you order for me as if I can't do it myself Malfoy," she snapped, hoping her voice would carry over the din of the room.

In reality, she preferred it when he ordered, and he knew it.

"I guess we both do things the other cannot stand Thorpe," he replied bitterly as she took a deep drink of her cup. She wasn't sure which one of them was going to pretend to storm off first, so she wanted to finish her drink incase it was her.

She glowered at him as she took another gulp and pretended to be lost in thought as she scanned the room. This was apparently the place to be today. Riddle was surrounded by his minions, which filled up a chunk of the pub on its own. Other students she vaguely recognized were scattered throughout, but no one she knew, so she decided she didn't mind throwing a fit in front of them.

"I don't appreciate being ignored," her companion said stiffly.

She was sure to jut her chin out as she retorted, "That's how I feel too Malfoy. But you seem to be quite fond of ignoring me in favor for your friends whenever it suits you."

Riddle was hanging onto every word now. He was completely turned around in his chair leaning over the back as if he couldn't bare being so far away, his eyes ablaze. Not that she had looked, of course.

"At least I have the decency to keep my company to just friends, Merissa Rose," he snarled, standing up now, "Don't think that because I haven't spoken to our parents about it yet that I don't hear whispers of what you and and Alphard were up to after Slughorn's Christmas party."

She wanted to laugh again. He had heard more than whispers, she had confided in him the next day. Abraxas was disgusted in her recount, which did little to clarify how exactly she felt about it.

"Well some of us are human and need to find comfort somewhere," she hissed, standing up as well, "We can't all find warmth in cold galleons and sickles!"

"I gave you everything!" Abraxas was yelling now, magnified by the dead silence in the crowded room. Even Avery, who usually appeared so sullen had a round 'o' for a mouth, "You only lasted four years. You might as well been a fling."

She couldn't hold back her snort this time but managed to disguise it as a scoff. It was all too ridiculous, "You go ahead and try to talk to my parents then! Believe me I tried."

That was a lie, as neither of them had mentioned anything to their parents. At the moment, their betrothment was a blessing, as it gave them a reason to be together despite their apparent mutatal disdain. And both could imagine being forced to marry much worse people.

"Gladly!"

"Good!"

"Good!"

They were both glowering at each other, while also holding back laughter. Merissa looked away, afraid that if she saw his shoulders shake anymore from silent laughter she would also laugh. He must have looked furious to everyone else, literally shaking and scarlet in the face. Had anyone else ever heard him yell before? She knew she hadn't. Abraxas was cold and hard when he was angry, not hot and reckless like this. She wondered if he was basing his performance off of Alphard's frequent arguments with his family, but it put a strange twinge in her throat to think about so she pushed it from her mind.

"I'm leaving," she said, once she was sure her voice was steady and her eyes steeley, "There is nothing for me here anymore. Thanks for the drink."

She tossed her hair haughtily as she exited, pushing a terrified second year out of her way as she went. Once she was out on the street, she pulled her fur trimmed hood around her face to hide her grin. Riddle had bought it - she could tell by the look on his face as she left.

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Purplestan: **Hi friend! I know I already responded to your questions via PM, but just going to answer them here in case anyone else had the same question. Chapter Two starts just about an hour after chapter one. At the very end of chapter one we see Merissa in the compartment with Susan, James, Abby and Mary where she spends the remainder of the train ride. Arriving at the station she is separated from them because she is handling her huge trunk (hmm wonder why it was so heavy - we still haven't found that out ;)) and Abraxas finds her and assists her with it and they move into the carriages to go the remainder of the way to Hogwarts. They can't see that the carriages are being drawn by thestrals because neither has seen death yet. Really great question though and the lack of clarity is one of the main things I'm planning on going back and fixing. I appreciate it (: and thank you so so much for your praise of the story. I hope you've continued to enjoy updates.**

SkittleLuvr.x3: **I too sometimes squeal when I get it together enough to post an update on time, haha. But in all seriousness, thank you so much! It means a lot that its been exciting for you and you're still looking forward to more.**

Ivet: **Your reviews are just asdjkhas AMAZING! The way you interact with this story is so gosh darn fun. To answer your question, Tom, Lestrange, Merissa, Alphard and Abraxas now know about the entrance, though no one but Tom knows for sure what is happening there, and even Tom is still confused why he can't get it open. Alphard, Abraxas and Merissa know that he goes into there and jabs his wand at the wall but they have no idea what it means or why hes doing it - though Merissa is getting warmer as she starts connecting the dots with Slytherin. Its like the Cold War - everyone is trying to get the the moon (the moon being the Chamber) first. No saying who will get there first. I'm flattered you think my characters are well written, I certainly try to make them real. Merissa is very careful, which is both a positive and a negative. The stress of perfectionism certainly gets to her at times and it makes her controlling, especially when it comes to things involving Riddle because she considers them so precarious. The tension between them keeps raising and eventually someone is going to break under it. I'm glad you're liking it for the time being though, because with all things in this story it will take time, and its really nice that you're patient with it(: I've been trying to drop hints about Abraxas' persuasion but yes I felt it was time to clarify why exactly he was always so hesitant to be physical with Merissa and why he's always so eager for Tom's approval. The situation with Alphard is toxic, I agree. Its all been a bit too much for him - he doesn't have the same coping mechanisms as Abraxas or Merissa and his emotions are getting out of control now. Merissa is unclear what she wants at this point and is avoiding the topic all together but I assure you resolution will come sooner rather than later. Susan is a wild card as she, similar to Alphard, has been a bit too strained and she also lacks the understanding of the situation. To her, it is like her friends have all gone mad and it feels personal. The next few chapters are heavy in Tom so hopefully you'll like them! Thank you so much for your continued interest (:**

 **Thank you all for reading! Check out the amazing new cover by the ever fantastic JanuaryLily.**


	20. A Pragmatist's Present(ce)

**Hellooooo! First of all a huge, enormous, gargantuan apology for taking so long to update. I knew I wouldn't be able to update weekly anymore but I had no idea this chapter would take me two and a half, ahhh. Also good news is that this hellish quarter is almost over and that means great things for updates (: This chapter is longgg and it has Christmas so hopefully that makes up for how long and patiently you have waited. As always:**

 **ENJOY!**

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December 24th, 1942

The grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the Ravenclaw tower was twin to the ones in the dormitories, standing tall and made of the same carefully carved wood but instead of having one face it had three, each facing away from each other as if to watch over the common room. One face was for the time, a standard clock that pointed forward. The second was on the movement of the moon, tracking its phases and location. The third was that of the stars and was far too complicated for anyone to have figured out, though may had tried before. Its delicate silver hands spun and swirled around as if trying to keep up with all the heavens at once, which didn't seems so impossible of an idea. Though is hardly made a noise except for on the hour, Merissa swore that the clock was screeching its tiny ticks at her, reminding her of all the time that was passing, and that despite this time nothing had been accomplished.

Her eyes flickered to the star face of the clock, trailing the frantic hands before forcing them back down to the book she held in hand. It was the third time she was reading it and she found it just a bland as the first, so it was taking nearly all her effort to make herself rake over the words. There had to be something. . .

But even Merissa's pressed faith was beginning to crumble. No matter how many times she cracked open the now worn binding of the book it offered her no secrets that she found any use to. It was better, at the very least, than the bland books she had found here at Hogwarts, though she had read them thrice through as well as knew she had to make due with what the library provided. Salazar Slytherin seemed to be the least common founder to write about, or at least the least popular to who ever ordered the books, which was not too incredibly surprising given his abandonment of the school. There was only a handful of books on the wizard and all of them were sprawled out across the floor in front of the couch that Merissa was occupying.

"This is pointless," Merissa sighed, throwing the book down onto the soft rug covering the floor and putting her legs up on the sky colored couch. She rested her head on it as she massaged her eyelids, burning from overuse, "We've gone through it three times each, there's nothing useful in this. It's just all wild speculation."

"Well," Abraxas said, looking up from his place on the rug where he had his own orderly stack of books, "That at least means he probably didn't find anything useful either."

She frowned. Riddle was impulsive, but even in his chaos there was always order. Everything he did, even the insane things (in fact more so the insane things) had a carefully thought out purpose. The only person who seemed to be able to rob him of his own obsessive meticulousness was Merissa and she was fairly certain she had not been there when he picked up this book

"I just don't buy that he would get a book without seeing something first," she countered, "The author seems less than credible if I'm being generous. And you said he hardly had any money of his own."

"I didn't tell you that to spread it around, Mer," he scolded, frowning, but she rolled her eyes and gestured dramatically around the room.

"Yes, all the people who can hear me," she yawned.

The common room was completely empty as she was the only one in her entire house who had stayed. The pair were spending as much time as they could here, without arousing Riddle's suspicions of course. It would have been quite useful, having the place to themselves, if they had managed to find anything useful.

But no revelations had come to them. It was just the pair and silence accompanied only by the sound of pages rustling and the constant ticking of the towering three-faced clock.

"I'm bored, and we haven't learned anything doing this," she whined, leaning her head on his shoulder and peering at the book he was reading, "I'd say we should take advantage of this empty room but. . ." she smirked at him sidelong.

Sighing, he shrugged her off, looking pointedly at the text. Merissa never seemed to tire of teasing him, ever since they were children. Although she was witty enough to keep it mildly entertaining he found it more as an inevitability. It was as reliable as the ticking of the clock.

"If you wanted that kind of a vacation, you should have gone with Alphard," he drawled, "You could be cozying it up in the Alps eating chocolates off of each others -" but she interrupted him with a loud gasp, nearly falling off the couch in excitement.

"Ergh," he groaned, looking at her like she had turned into a flobberworm as she steadied herself on his shoulder, "That was a joke, I definitely don't want to think about that."

As if the idea of her and Alphard didn't nauseate him enough.

"No," she snapped impatiently, jabbing a finger at the book he had open, "It says there that Salazar was a Parselmouth."

"Yes," he agreed face still pinched in disgust, "Everyone knows that."

Salazar Slytherin, after all, was the most famous Parselmouth Ireland had ever produced - possibly the most famous ever. It was the reason for the snake emblem sewn onto their robes, their scarves, their banners.

"Maybe all Slytherin's did, but I didn't," she insisted, "I can't believe I never thought. . ."

She jumped up and started to run her hands through her hair. Her feet began pulling her in paces across the room and back, though her mind was unaware.

"I don't get it," Abraxas admitted, watching her from his place on the floor, "Why does that matter?"

"Well Riddle is descended from him you know!" she said, stopping mid-pace to look at him with wide eyes. Certainly, she thought, he would see where she was going with this. The possibility sat like a burning taste of firewhiskey on her tongue. Could a half blood ever fulfill the role? Though he was certainly powerful enough in most respects she couldn't deny that a part of her underestimated him because of it. There were certain prejudices she couldn't quite leave behind as much as she would like to. Because it was true, she realized the only thing that was holding her from certainty was Riddle's blood status, though she knew it was foolish. Being a halfblood wouldn't stop him from killing her if he wanted to, it wouldn't stop him from much else . . .

"Yes, he's very proud of his ancestry," Abraxas agreed, still oblivious to the conclusion forming in her mind, "Reminds us frequently."

"Well don't you see!" she exclaimed. He continued to stare at her blankly, "Its a rare gift, it's passed down genetically you see. So Slytherin could count on no one having the gift until someone from his line came here. And if he needed to keep something - say a chamber - safe from anyone else his heir he would need a special brand of magic to protect it. A lock only a descendant would have the key to."

Comprehension dawned upon his face and just as quickly it was extinguished by disbelief. Annoyance sparked in Merissa's mind as she saw him mentally rejecting her theory. _How often am I wrong_ she countered mentally, but kept her comment to herself. There was no reason to be arrogant, even if she was correct.

"You can't possibly think that he . . ." Abraxas shook his head, "No way, Mer."

"Why not?" she demanded, "He is the heir right? And he kind of hisses at me sometimes now that I think about it. . ." she pulled at her hair, musing over this.

"No," Abraxas argued, "He never speaks to us in it. I'm sure if he had a talent like that he would show it off to us."

"Why give away a talent like that? If he even knows its special," she argued, "There's plenty we take for granted being raised in magical households and he's arrogant enough not to research things he thinks he understands. You need to stay up tonight and see if he speaks it while he's asleep, I know that's supposed to be common."

He pinched the bridge on his nose between his thumb and index finger, "How do you know that?"

"My _mother_ ," (she said the word pointedly allowing her usual venom to soak into it) "Speaks more languages than most people have heard of," she continued, waving a hand carelessly, "Hosting international galas and what not. She'd kill for someone fluent in Parseltongue, its nearly a dead language. But that's not what we're talking about."

She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly and he rubbed his face and groaned. She held back a smirk as even if he wouldn't admit it yet, she knew she had already won.

"Please Ab?" she begged for good measure, poking her lip out juvenilely at him.

"Fine," he agreed wearily, "Fine, but after nothing happens, you drop this okay? This isn't a real lead."

She grinned, refusing to allow his pessimism to influence her mood. This was the first break in weeks and even if Abraxas couldn't see it yet she at least could be comforted by the fact that she knew she was right.

"I'd like to see you try to crush on him after hearing him all hissy and ew," she laughed, plopping back down onto the couch and ignoring his exasperated expression, "I wonder what kind of sounds he makes when he - you know," she winked at him.

"You're disgusting," he told her factually, unfolding his long limbs as he stood an began to stretch them back out, "I can't believe I used to kiss that foul mouth."

She stuck her tongue at him as he began stacking up the books on the table. She kept their collection hidden between her mattress and box spring as a precaution. It made for uncomfortable sleeping but the peace of mind was well worth it. When Abraxas was done she levitated them carefully, making them shoot up the staircase, a soft thump signifying they had made it into her dormitory.

Merissa smirked. She was getting rather good at this.

Abraxas refused to be impressed, "Extraordinary" he sighed when she looked at him expectantly, "If you could hold a wand steady you might actually be threatening."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder loftily, "I'm _terrifying_ ," she assured him.

He still looked far from convinced but let the subject drop, "I need to get back before anyone misses me," he said, "I'll be back tomorrow, same time."

"Tomorrow is Christmas," she pouted.

Though she kept her tone light she was a bit apprehensive about spending the holiday alone. While her usual family gatherings could hardly be called intimate and despite being happy to escape the usual parade of parties she was dragged along to there was a deeper unspoken concern of such a change. She found herself clinging to what little remained of the life she was so familiar with, even if she had despised it. Better the devil you know than the one you don't.

"Fine," Abraxas conceded for the second time today. There just wasn't any use arguing with her, "I'll come in the morning, before anyone wakes up. We can open our presents together."

She beamed. Now that there was no pressure for them to be together, she found she enjoyed Abraxas' company more than anyone else's, save maybe Susan when she wasn't being a dolt.

"I will look forward to it," she called, curling back into the couch, sure to take advantage of all the space she had as she watched him go, the door turning back into a solid wall once he had gone. Closing her eyes, she pulled a pillow over her chest, realizing how drowsy she was almost at once. It had been a rather long day, and the sun was only now slipping behind the hills beyond the Black Lake, painting the world behind her eyelids a golden color. She slipped slowly into a between state of consciousness, for once not plagued with troubling dreams. She stayed like this for a while - she couldn't be sure how long - when she became aware of the sound of footsteps.

This of course instantly had her upright as she was the only Ravenclaw here and Abraxas had already left for the day. Blinking her eyes wildly to focus them she jumped to her feet, sending the pillow she had been holding flying out onto the floor between herself and the figure. Even in the dim light he was unmistakable.

"What in the name of Merlin's week old trousers are you doing here, Riddle," she demanded, all the softness of sleep pushed from her mind at once.

He sauntered closer, not taken aback by her waking and leaned nonchalantly against an armchair, looking around with mild interest all the while. She guessed he probably had never been in another common room, as he didn't associate with anyone outside Slytherin, but his nonchalance infuriated her. As if he had nothing to be afraid of, or perhaps more exactly, as if she was nothing to be afraid of.

"Mmm," he hummed in approval, gesturing to the main alcove that had several plush chairs and a reading lap huddled around a wall of books, "That's nice."

She glared at him, standing up straighter and jutting her chin out. It bothered her how even as he carelessly leaned onto the back of one of the armchairs he appeared to tower over her. Abraxas, while certainly physically taller did not dwarf her in the way Riddle's presence did. The enigmatic air that surrounded him was almost palpable.

She had no idea how she had overlooked it before.

And yet, she found herself scanning him over again because certainly she had never seen him without his robes on. He was wearing a rather plain white button up and very muggle looking slacks. He probably hadn't done it purposefully, but she was thrown off by how normal he looked for the second time this week, not that it stopped her from glaring at him as if it had been a purposeful attack.

He seemed amused by the way she was gripping her wand, arms crossed tightly around her thin jumper. Merissa was almost certain a strand of her hair was on the wrong side as it tickled her jaw but she refused to lower her wand to fix it. It would be a rather anticlimactic reasons for dying after everything.

"I think you've been spending too much time with Black. That insult was all to reminstence of his vulgar mouth," he smirked at her.

She felt no need to play along with his banter while they were so painfully isolated so she looked at him with as much disdain as she could muster, trying to imagine he was a solicitor trying to sell her broom catalogues at her door, "What are you doing here?"

His smirk dropped at her tone, evidently realizing she was not going to be much fun to toy with today, "What a coincidence, that's why I'm here. To ask you the same thing."

Merissa was still shaken by how quickly he dropped the charming, light voice that he used around nearly everyone to this darker, deeper version. It was as if he spilt, one half the polite boy she had written off years ago as no one interesting enough to know and the other half this dark dangerous animal which she didn't know the first thing about. It was unsettling how quickly he could switch between the two. He was practiced, skilled.

"I live here," she mocked unwilling to let the uncomfortable feeling take hold of her like it was threatening to, but he didn't seem bothered by her comment.

"I don't mean in this tower," he clarified with an air of patience which she knew was faux, "I mean why are you in this castle? I heard of all the invitations you got, and just to spend the holidays alone? Someone might think something was wrong."

He finished slowly as if allowing the implication of the words to settle into the air. She stared at him, unblinking. He wouldn't catch her flinching, she swore it to herself.

"As much as I appreciate your concern with my social life, I am tired, and do not have time for this Riddle," she snapped, hoping it would end their conversation and escape back to her room.

She hadn't moved an inch however before he raised his wand level with her heart, "Don't make me ask again," his voice was barely above a whisper, but it stopped her dead in her tracks.

Perhaps half a flinch wouldn't be so horrible.

"I thought it would show you," she admitted, "That I wasn't about to be intimidated by you."

 _Also, I think you're sneaking around in an ancient chamber left by your ancestor_ she added mentally.

"But here we are," he said, face calm, but eyes ablaze, "You being intimidated by me."

"I am not," she said firmly, surprised by how true it was.

"How foolish of you."

She gave him a very forced smile before moving forward, hoping to corral him out of her common room, "I think you should go now, Riddle."

It wasn't entirely unexpected when he didn't move an inch, but she was still rather disappointed. This apparently wouldn't be a brief encounter.

"Well Riddle disagrees," he smiled, sitting down in on of the chairs he liked, propping his head against his fist, the other waving invitingly to the one across from him, "Please sit."

She didn't move a muscle, arms still crossed. His face contorted in rage, "It was not a request Thorpe!" he snarled.

She looked at him levely, making no move to sit down.

" _Imperio_ ," he growled.

She found her muscles dragging her unwilling mind into the seat he had indicated. She stared at him, her eyes burning indignantly, not able to react in any other way. He looked pleased, "That's better."

She gasped as he lifted his wand, her muscles groaning in pain from her resistance. His spell was clearly meant to hold her into her seat but she found she could flex her hand, pleased when she was able to move it and elated when she was able to start burning the soft fabric of the chair she was forced into with it. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt fibers yet seemed too nervous of her ability to prevent her from doing it more. He lowered his wand and the effects of the unforgivable ceased. She smiled coolly, releasing the arm of the chair and folding her hands in her lap.

"Was that necessary," she asked, still inexplicably calm.

He seemed bothered by this, narrowing his eyes at her, "Yes. I am Tom Riddle and you do what I say."

"I don't," she argued lightly, jestering to the burnt imprint of her hand on the arm of the chair, "Isn't that why we keep having a go at each other?"

His eyes were slits now as he considered her, "Yes," he finally allowed, "And I truly despise you, Thorpe."

"The feeling is mutual. Though, I think that if you're having to risk Azkaban using unforgivables to get me to do these things, you're a little desperate."

"Coming from the little girl who has tavern brawls with her boyfriend and is estranged from her best friend because of infidelity with a blood traitor?" he snapped back, though his wand hand had twitched as if it would have liked to shove her up against the wall by her neck when she had called him desperate.

"I find it fascinating that you claim I'm nothing, but then have to continuously belittle me to yourself when you're around me," she tested, standing up again as his spells no longer held anything over her, "It's almost as if you are worried you might be frightened of me if you didn't take such precautions."

"Are you willing to bet on that Thorpe?" he challenged, also rising now, " _Legilimens._ "

She didn't have time to block him with magic, but she managed to throw her current thoughts into the depths of her subconscious, thinking wildly of the only thing she knew would make him unwilling to spend more time in her mind; kissing Alphard.

He came out of her mind quickly, looking every bit disgusted as she had hoped and breathing heavily at the effort attacking her had caused. She was by far the most difficult person he had tried this on.

"No matter," he seethed, "That'll break poor Malfoy's heart though."

Her mind prickled uncomfortably having just relieved the moment she had been shoving away so frequently, but this was certainly not the time to consider it. She thought about anything but Malfoy as she lied recklessly, "He's known for years. He's just bothered that we aren't being sneaky anymore."

She really prayed he wasn't attempting to penetrate her mind again as he held her eyes for a moment longer than he usually did. If he had, he found nothing at the very least.

"I will catch you off guard, and all this struggling will be all for none when I do," he threatened, sweeping away, "Last chance to come clean, Thorpe."

"I look forward to that," she called after him, "When you find out I've been minding my own business and all of this was for none."

He turned, looking like a feral animal, black eyes flaming, "I may not know what you are trying to do, but you can bet that I know you are doing everything except that."

He left, just as quickly as he had came and she found herself staring at the hole in the wall which he had disappeared through minutes after it had sealed and returned to appear as a solid wall. It took several more for her to realize why she was still staring. She could have sworn she saw him shaking slightly as he left, a sign of weakness she had never observed before. They had hardly dueled, but her mere ability to resist him seemed to infuriate him beyond all bounds. It had taken a lot out of her too admittedly. His magic was unlike anything she had ever experienced. He was not merely talented, he was also powerful, wielding magic in a incredibly unique way. She couldn't deny his talent anymore, based upon bloodstatus or anything else for that matter. He was better than any pureblood she had ever met and perhaps she might have also admitted of anyone she had ever met if her pride would have allowed it. This in mind, she decided she would just sleep on a chair, casting wards incase he tried to come back. He would not expect her to be so daring after today, and perhaps that would be a blessing in disguise. She curled up and fell into blissfully still slumber, despite her worries.

December 25th, 1942

Merissa was aware of gentle rustling as she awoke. At first she dismissed it as Susan turning in her sleep, but as it grew louder she recognized that it was the arm of a chair putting a crook in her back and with that realization came rushing back the awareness of where she was an why. She bounded up, brandishing her wand at the shadowy figure, making it yell out in fear. She recognized the voice immediately even from such a short cry, however she kept the delicate stick of wood steady at its chest as her eyes adjusted, just to be sure.

She lowered her wand when she was sure the light shock of hair was not an illusion - it was just Abraxas. He was mostly obscured by a large armful of presents which was the source of the rustling but his eyes stared widely at her from over the heap.

"Merlin Meri," he complained, "Didn't you ask me to come?"

"Y-yes," she managed to say, stowing away her wand and making to help him with the pile, setting them down on a table, "I just had a visit from your debussy last night, so I am still on edge."

"Riddle was here?" he asked at once, and even in the dim light she recognized his cheeks darkened slightly as he blushed, realizing the conclusion he had drawn so quickly from her words, "That's what you get for just having a riddle as a password here," he told her, grasping for recovery.

She let it slide, his embarrassment twisting her stomach unpleasantly. As much as she would have enjoyed gentle teasing on the subject she couldn't get past the sick feeling in her guts every time she remembered that he held Riddle in such regards.

He began straightening the pile as she stood watching, heart still beating fast from her rude awakening and now also from her discomfort.

"How did you get past my wards?" she asked, suddenly frowning.

"It was very unpleasant," he began testily (which was somewhat relieving for her as they seemed to fit back into their normal pattern which avoided the subject of Tom Riddle), "To be smashed against the wall upon my entrance and have to unstick myself, only to be tripped and held upside down while I freed myself. Luckily I am quite familiar undoing your magical booby traps at this point. I had to every morning I'd come to wake you up that week in Venice, remember? You were upset with me for not letting you go on the muggle gondolas."

She grinned at the memory, plopping back onto the chair she had slept in, "I do. I'm also not sorry for that, those little boats were so charming."

"Uh huh," he agreed, not at all surprised she had dodged any apology, "But I also got here very early. It's not even four yet."

Merissa raised her eyebrows at him as she lit a nearby lamp. It was clear that it was early from the dim grey light, still she had assumed by his presence it must have been at least five, as Abraxas valued what little sleep he could manage to fit in with studying, quidditch and social events. With the addition of snooping around with her lately, rest was a coveted commodity.

"I didn't sleep actually," he told her, "I stayed up until three, cursing you if I'm honest. It was so like you to have a plan that involved me staying up all night for nothing. But it wasn't for nothing, you were right," he breathed the last line, making her sit down, fascinated, "I stayed up, and eventually he started hissing."

She leaned back in her, smiling up at the high ceiling painted like the heavens as if thanking a higher power, "That bastard can really do it."

"Yes," he agreed, "But there's nothing we can do about with that at the moment so. . ." he tossed her a present from his pile, "This is for you, "from me". My mother has been uncharacteristically coy whenever I ask about it so I'm assuming it rather awful."

She fiddled with the box, frowning at its beautiful wrappings suspiciously. She had a fair idea what might be inside and she thought Abraxas probably did too, but she understood his unwillingness to finalize it. Given the current circumstances, this small box was hardly welcome. And given even the most basic understanding of Lillian Malfoy, one knew that it would be exceptionally conspicuous.

"How much of your mother's shopping have you taken credit for over the years?" she diverted.

"Plenty," he shrugged. She bit her lip, looking back down at the package, "Open it," he snapped, starting to unwrap a large gift that turned out to be a shiny, new broom, to neither of their surprise.

She obeyed, slashing the corners of the thick paper open with flicks of her fingers as she went. Abraxas knew exactly why she enjoyed it so, as exactly three years ago he had watched her try this on a present when spending Christmas with both of their families. Though Mrs. Malfoy had clapped her hands together in delite at her talent, Gregor Thorpe had looked upon his daughter with fury. The Malfoy's had hardly left their foye before her father had taken her by the arm and dragged her upstairs to his study. Merisa had spent the rest of the holiday giving half hearted excuses to everyone why she could not visit while her ever-faithful house elf dabbed salve on her bruises. It was no secret that to Gregor Thorpe, image was everything, and it was hardly surprising given his highly visible position in the ministry. Having a magical freak for a daughter was hardly part of his plan, and Merissa couldn't entirely blame him, even if she should.

"He's looking out for me as well, Abraxas," she had argued with him on their return journey to Hogwarts that vacation, "If anyone in the press got hold of it they would have a field day. He's protecting me as much as himself."

Merissa, for reasons Abraxas couldn't fathom, did have a soft spot for her father. But he could understand why she took the freedoms now to play with her magic. It was no wonder Hogwarts had always felt more like home to her.

Abraxas's attention was pulled back by a short gasp from Merissa as she finally opened the small box in her palm. What was truly remarkable to both of them was how brightly the stone shone even with the sun still hidden behind the mountains.

"It is rather lovely," she admitted, pulling it from its nestled bed of satin, "Even if its entirely inappropriate. I'm sure your father insisted on a ring."

"Having a betrothment isn't official enough for him, I have to physically mark you as my territory" he sighed, leaning over to look at it too, "Apparently it was time you had one, even if you can't wear it on your hand for the time being. I wouldn't be offended if you chucked it though, given the circumstances."

"No, I'll wear it," she insisted putting it on her index finger where is obscured the bottom half of her finger easily it sheer size. She was grateful he hasn't put on a show about it and was easily convinced to do the same, "It'll be like a friendship ring!"

"That's a gaudy friendship ring," he told her, moving back into his seat to start on the next package. Merissa pulled her knees up onto the chair and spun the ring around her finger. All of it could have been much worse and she was grateful that if she had to marry anyone that it was at least someone she did love, even if her feelings towards Abraxas had been more familial than wanting-to-start-a-family. And she couldn't claim she had felt such stirrings for anyone, at least not that she recognized.

"Alphard!" Abraxas cried disdainfully.

Merissa's eyes flew up quicker than she knew they could, "Excuse me?" she demanded. There was no way her face was _that_ readable.

But Abraxas wasn't looking at her at all, yet alone deeply enough to have extracted her inner musings. He was gaping down at a box which he had just opened, filled the the brim with something black and incredibly familiar in its irregular round shapes.

He sent me coal," Abraxas muttered, picking up a piece of the charred contents in utter disbelief, "Actual, physical coal."

Merissa burst out laughing, earning her a sour look from Abraxas, the chunk still held gingerly between his fingers. He tossed it lightly at her and she caught it easily, taking it in her own fingers to examine it.

"I wonder if it's from Switzerland," she smirked, tossing it into the smoldering fireplace. She couldn't deny how pleasant it was to have someone who could make her laugh from countries away.

"I wonder if you got any," Abraxas challenged, making her smug smile fade away, "Summon them from your room, I want to see."

" _Accio presents_ ," she called, though she had to admit she was a bit apprehensive as the pile whizzed down to her. Surely, Alphard wasn't that angry at her, was he? She scanned them hoping to find a label from him quickly, but instead discovering she had a present that was not her own.

"Oh whoops I didn't specify which presents . . . sorry," she squinted at the foreign name scribble hastily on the brown paper package, "Myrtle Warren, whoever you are."

"Nobody then if neither you nor I have heard of her," Abraxas laughed, tossing the package away, "Let's see. . . oh here we go," he fished a thick envelope out of her newly formed pile and placed it in her expectantly outstretched hands.

"That's not coal," she said weakly, half wishing it was.

The letter was heavy in her hands, easily ten pages long. Alphard's tidy scrawl was unmistakable and even if it hadn't been the Black family crest imprinted on the wax seal would have been enough to give the sender away. There was something slightly disturbing about the coat of arms on a letter from him - he was never so formal, especially not with her.

She could just imagine what he would have to say her to as he spent his vacation alone with plenty of time to ruminate on what happened after the ball. Even more clear was the three page addition he would have made as well if he knew she was spending her's curled up with Malfoy.

"Later," Abraxas insisted, clearly disappointed, "Just be grateful it isn't a howler."

She nodded, putting the letter down carefully as if she was worried it would explode despite its innocent appearance. Trying to push wild speculation about what horror that heavy parchment could hold from her mind, she moved on to some standard gifts from her parents. She had received a lot more than usual this year, probably because Abraxas had been lying about her dealings this year. Besides the expected extravagance from her parents, she had gotten a lovely new quill from Abby along with a planner that yelled when an assignment was upcoming from James (which she knew he had bought tongue in cheek) and single sock from Susan. She sighed down at the sock, before tossing it near Myrtle's package with a huff. Mary hadn't even bothered to send a note which made Merissa passionately regret spending hours pouring over which broach the girl would prefer.

"Christmas isn't as fun when everyone is mad at you," she sighed, picking up a gift from his pile and ripping into it with another practiced twitch of her wrist.

"Stop being so tragic," Abraxas chided, "Those are really nice," he nudged a pair of riding boots she had gotten from her parents.

"Those mean we are being dragged to Barcelona again this summer to that polo club they're so fond of," she said pointedly, wrinkling her nose as if she could already smell the concentrated sweat of the stallions.

"You poor thing," he snorted, "We'll invite Alphard, as I am absolutely positive he will have forgiven you by New Years, and we'll cover for each other."

"Do you want this?" she asked quickly changing the subject, "It's from your barmy aunt," she showed him the small leather bound book in her hand and he groaned.

If Merissa was the shame of her family then Auriga Malfoy was the shame of his. Seemingly concrete proof that the Malfoy and Black lines should never mix, Auriga had married into the family and promptly went mad. Every holiday she sent out a single leather bound journal to everyone in the family insisting that they fill it with their dreams so that when she saw them she could interpret them. Everyone learned rather quickly not to do this however, because her predictions were as outlandish as she was. Merissa would humor her occasionally and her choice prediction for her future seemed to be bloody deaths, which amused her as much as it exasperated Abraxas.

"No, please take it," he said, forcefully pushing it back into her hands, "I know you use them for class. I'll get another for Easter, I'm sure."

"I haven't had to buy a notebook in years though," she said brightly, tossing it into her pile of opened presents.

"How fortunate, surely such lavish purchases would cripple the Thorpe estate," he drawled as she tore zealously into another package.

She grinned down, partially because she was pleased at how cleanly she had cut the wrappings and a larger part due to the ridiculous nature of his comment. She was fairly sure she could have purchased a small island every day of the year for the rest of her life and still not see the back wall of the Thorpe vault at Gringotts. Though they lived far from frugally the men in her family had the reputation of dragons - lording over their mountains of gold.

"Nonetheless, they're handy little things," she countereted, finding in pleasant surprise the gift was a box of chocolate frogs from Thomas.

The chocolate being the pleasant part. She still couldn't muster any feelings but complete indifference to her co-prefect.

"You wouldn't be so fond of them if they were a reminder that you were related to a crazy woman," he muttered, watching as she bit into one of the frogs, "What's his deal anyways?," he gestured to the box, "Does he fancy you?"

Merissa shrugged, "I really don't know. I didn't get him a gift though, so hopefully he'll get the message."

"Free chocolate is horrible, you really are going to put your foot down I'm sure," he teased, earning a chocolate frog in the face. He caught it easily with his seeker reflexes and took a bite, "Horrible," he nodded.

"Does it taste like charity?" she asked, "It should."

"Only the cheapest," he agreed, finishing the sweet off with another bite. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach, undoubtedly thinking of the extravagant feast being prepared below them. He had never gone a day in his life without three lavish houself prepared meals so she guessed his sleepless - and more importantly foodless- night had taken a toll he was completely foreign to.

"I should go," he sighed, "They'll be waking up soon."

 _Yeah_ , Merissa thought, hardly hiding a grin, _And you're hungry_.

But even she couldn't deny the constant nature of time. The sun was starting to crest the ridge over the lake, making the snow on the windowsill glisten and bringing color to the previously gray room. Another day was breaking despite anyone's efforts to spend all day cocooned in their chambers. The dawn took no holidays.

"You should get back to the snake pit," she agreed. She saw him inspecting her face carefully. His searching looks were all too familiar these days so she joked, "Take your presents with you, or I'll steal them."

"Like you would know what do with a nimbus," he laughed, deciding she was fine, "See you around, Mer. Happy Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Ab," she waved as she cracked the binding of a book on advanced potion making Joseph had gotten her, probably in hopes it would stump her. It did not.

/_\

Returning Myrtle Warren's gift proved to be no easy task, so much so that Merissa had begun to question if she simply was not the sort of person who was meant to do nice things. Why else was the universe making it so difficult for her to give someone a bloody package? It was not that Myrtle did not accept the package, but Merissa was having great difficulty finding anyone who had even heard of the girl to tell her which house to look in.

"Sorry," shrugged a sixth year Hufflepuff boy, after she had nearly tackled him trying to get him to pause in the hall long enough to listen to her question, "Never heard of her. Aren't you Merissa Thorpe though?"

"No," she snapped forcefully, annoyed by his lack of knowledge, through a small part of her reminded her that _she_ also had no idea who she was.

The boy didn't seem bothered, simply shrugging again, "My mistake then, some creepy Slytherin was asking me if I'd seen her earlier. She looks a lot like you."

He peered at her again inquisitively, most likely finding her likeness to be uncanny.

"I've heard," she snapped, not bothering to wonder what Lestrange was asking around about her for. She was sure she'd find out soon enough. The boy left after one last look over his shoulder, but she spotted a gangly Gryffindor down the hall.

"Hey. Hey!" she called, starting after him, when he did not stop, "Potter, right?"

The Gryffindor seeker turned, looking bemused as she jogged to him, "Aren't you Merissa Thorpe?" he asked when she reached him.

"Yes," she huffed, exasperated, "Who's looking for me now?"

"No one that I know of," he said, a grin to break across his face at her tone, "I just play against Malfoy. That was brilliant what you did to him in the three broomsticks, by the way. I'm a huge fan."

It didn't surprise her in the slightest that everyone seemed to still be talking about her constructed argument with Abraxas, as it had happened so recently, though that didn't stop her from finding it rather exhausting. Far worse arguments happened behind closed doors even within Hogwarts but no one raised any eyebrows to the bruises the meek girls did their best to cover afterwards. It was only the real spectacles that anyone cared about, what happened in private was left alone, even when it really shouldn't be.

"No press is bad press," she said grumpily. He was far too cheerful for her taste, though she allowed she was probably acting a bit like a Scrooge, "I am looking for a Myrtle Warren, have you heard of her?"

"Sure, I know her," he nodded and she let out a sigh or relief. Who knew the jockish Charlus Potter would a useful source for information.

"She's in your house though," he gave her a strange look, "Third year."

"No one else in my house stayed," she argued, "And also, how do you know her then?"

"Er -," he ruffled his hair looking uncomfortable, "I find her on patrols a lot. I guess people aren't the nicest to her," his eyes suddenly narrowed, eyeing her suspiciously, "Why are you looking for her?"

Unbelievable. He thought she was trying to stalk out a victim on Christmas. And what exactly had she ever done to possess such a reputation? It was true that Olive Hornby was on the receiving end of plenty of hexes originating from her wand, but that was because Olive Hornby was a prepatator of such crimes, not Merissa herself. That didn't make her guilty at all, in fact in absolved her of her sins she thought. Hexing Hornby was really a public service.

Merissa raised her hands defensively, "I was just summoning my gifts and accidently got one of hers," she held out the present as proof

"Okay," Charlus squinted at her, clearly still unsure.

"Got to go," she muttered, "Santa duties."

He finally smiled, deciding her intentions were pure, waving slightly as she went.

She didn't think much as she made the voyage back to the Ravenclaw tower, mostly relieved to soon be rid of the package that had plagued her morning. When she finally came to the third year girls dormitory door, she hesitated before deciding to knock.

Her ear pressed against the door, hardly believing anyone else could have been in the tower without her noticing, she was surprised to hear a squeak and some shuffling. Perhaps she wasn't as observant as she had always assumed. She waited patiently, and when the door finally opened, she was met by a short girl with thick spectacles gazing at her with slight horror.

"Hello, I'm Merissa Thorpe" she said smiling kindly as she saw how terrified this girl clearly was, "I apologize, I was under the impression I was the only Ravenclaw who stayed, I would have introduced myself sooner."

The girl stared at her with rather plain brown eyes for about a minute longer than Merissa was comfortable with before saying very quietly, "I'm Myrtle."

The girl's voice cracked as if she had not used it in months, which given her reclusive behavior didn't seem completely out of the question.

"Nice to meet you," Merissa continued trying to ignore the way plump girl was gazing at her, "I think I have something of yours," she offered her the package, "I accidentally summoned it earlier today and have been looking for you since."

"That was very kind of you," she said, voice quivering as she took her present.

"You're welcome," Merissa said, smiling encouragingly. The girl just continued to look at her with wide unblinking eyes. Merissa cleared her throat before continuing, "So, you must be getting so much done up here. I haven't seen you at meals or anything."

"The house elves have been bringing me food," she whispered, not looking at the older girl as she spoke, the only time Merissa thought she should have made eye contact, "I've hardly left my room."

"Right," Merissa nodded slowly, trying very hard not to let judgment seep into her voice. People like Myrtle were exactly why most assumed Ravenclaw's were silent and painfully shy. She had never done anything to this girl and yet she seemed incapable of carrying on a proper greeting. Merissa coughed when the girl was silent again before concluding, "Well I'll see you around Myrtle."

The girl just continued to gape mutely as she closed the door. Merissa shook her head before heading to her room, where she intended to sulk about being alone at Christmas for the rest of the day. But she was suddenly struck with a thought that froze her in place, her hand inched from the third year's door.

Myrtle said she had been in her room all break. All break Merissa had been carelessly talking with Abraxas just below her. And the way she had stared. . .

She knew everything, Merissa realized.

* * *

 **Well I guess the only solution is to kill Myrtle now. Haha I'm joking (or am I?). You'll just have to read and see. Now hopefully the somewhat confusing title of this chapter also makes sense, because Myrtle is a pragmatist and her presenT and her presenCE are central to this chapter. I'm too acutely aware that I'm explaining my own joke now but oh well. I don't to promise an update date exactly because if I don't make it I will beat myself up over it BUT I will say that the next chapter is already in the works and I think (and hope) you will all enjoy it as well.**

 **Reviews will be addressed in the next update so if you want to leave one you will hear back shortly ;)**


	21. New Years Day

**Hi there! Let me begin by saying a huge THANK YOU for being patient while I finished the school year. I am done now and back on track for weekly updates as I was doing for the first few months. That being said, I appreciate everyone reading this because it means you have stuck with this for over twenty chapters and that's pretty spectacular.**

 **Also, you may have noticed that I changed the rating of this story to M, which was a decision based off a lot of different factors. However, as if now the story is M for adult themes, violence and excessive alcohol consumption (haha not but seriously alcoholism is serious and don't do it kids).**

 **Until next time (which I swear will be on time).**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

January 1st, 1943

"Cheers," Merissa said dully, clinking her bottle of firewhiskey against the mirror that Abraxas' face was currently occupying.

They had been gifted two way mirrors by Mrs. Malfoy just last year, probably thinking she was giving them a great present, especially given how secretively she had gifted them, however they had not used them until this week. Merissa found herself grateful for their parents misconceptions about their relationship in more ways than she had ever imagined. Otherwise she would be quite unable to speak to Abraxas from the relative safety of her dormitory. Sprawled across her bed, she was nursing a bottle and, above all, feeling incredibly sorry for herself. Since her epiphany about Myrtle, she had not risked sneaking Abraxas back into the common room. It hadn't particularly bother her until today, as she was feeling very lonely. It was around one in the morning now, and he had just gotten away from the Slytherin speakeasy taking place in light of the new year.

"Where did you get that bottle?" he asked, a crease forming between his light eyebrows and making the flat reflection of his face look incredibly weary. He eyed the level of the amber liquid as it sloshed around being tipped back into her lips, "I don't even want to know if that dent is just from today."

"It is," she assured him breezily, lowering her bottle back to her bedside table, already overflowing with everything from notebooks to potions ingredients, "As you predicted, Alphard forgave me after I wrote him back."

"I doubt he would again if you drank yourself to death," he scoffed, still giving the bottle a rather dirty look as if it and not Merissa had made the decision to overindulge.

"I'll be dead, I think I could live with it," she laughed liberally at her own joke, but thinking about Alphard stung slightly, as it had every time lately.

The letter did not turn out to be the angry beratement that she had expected, but even worse, a confession of his feelings, and a horribly detailed one at that. It has put such a strange feeling in her stomach that she had tucked it under her mattress along with her books, adding to her collection of secrets. Even there it seemed to burn a hole up to her as she slept, making her toss and turn. The letter he had gotten back had more drafts that she would have liked to admit, however once it was completed it largely avoided the topic except to say that it was something they needed to discuss when he returned. She was fond of Alphard, but she was also quite sure she would never be able to return the intensity of his feelings.

Abraxas was looking frustrated rather than amused however, "I really do worry Meri," he said seriously, "As much as you annoy me sometimes, you're still my best friend."

Normally she might have smiled at this - Abraxas and her had never been better as she was very grateful for that as it made wearing the heavy diamond ring she had received for Christmas on a chain around her neck feel less like a medieval ball and chain - but tonight she was far too cynical and being drunk only exacerbated that.

"What about Riddle," she sneered, and hiccuped, "Isn't he your bestest, westest buddy?"

He gave her a wuthering look and leaned his head back against the dungeon wall before replying, "I'm not a fool. I know what he is and I know he doesn't consider any of us friends. I realize that my feelings are irrational, but I am also helpless to stop them."

"Emotions are pointless," she murmured, head beginning to droop slightly into the pillow she was cradling.

"He says that," Abraxas informed her, making her look up to glare at him, hoping to scorch him with her gaze. Instead, the sudden movement made her turn green as a wave of nausea swept over her.

Abraxas watched her mildly before adding, "I mean he says they're weakness - though he never looks that ill while doing it."

Merissa was taking deep breaths, willing the nausea away, and barely hearing him. She really did not care explain to anyone how she ruined her bedspread if she became sick on it.

"Do I need to come hold your hair back?" she heard Abraxas ask faintly past the ringing in her ears, "I will if you need me to, I mean it."

"I appreciate the offer," she replied, dragging her hair back with one hand, the other cool against her cheek, "But I have ribbon, it's fine."

He peered uncertainly at her, "You swear you're not about to choke or something? Don't even try to sleep until you've thrown up, okay?"

Despite her state she managed to roll her eyes at him. Through everything, she had no doubt Abraxas would ever retire from his seemingly full time job of worrying about her.

"Yes, mother," she snapped, "You're worse than when we were dating, Merlin."

"We still are technically," he reminded her, frowning slightly, "I have to go, but be safe."

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement, setting the mirror down as it reflected her face back at her now. The girl who stared back at her looked boney and sallow, as she had not been eating or sleeping well lately. In fact, when she thought about it, she couldn't recall eating anything since yesterday, which helped explain why the firewhiskey was burning so deeply without her stomach.

As if triggered by the thought, she felt a rising in her throat and dashed to the toilet, making it just in time. She retched into it, groaning, leaning her face against the seat as she waited for the next wave. _Here I am: rock bottom_ she thought foggily, before she began retching again. She hated the acrid smell, reminding of her of her brief bout with bulimia a couple years ago, so she flushed every time she was done.

When her stomach felt as if it couldn't possibly have any more contents to expel she leaned back onto the cabinets that lined the bottoms of the sinks. Her perception long gone she hit her head against the marble countertop harder than she originally intended. Cursing, she rubbed her scalp gingerly, feeling the beginnings of a bump forming beneath her fingers.

All of the sound must have alerted the other Ravenclaw, because when she had begun to consider attempting to stand back up, she heard a timid knock on the door.

She groaned, "No Myrtle, you don't want to see this! I'm being an awful role model," she scolded herself more quietly.

The room seemed like a crime scene, all the evidence of Merissa's bad decisions strewn about. Her rucksack was gaping open, everything from potions ingredients to panties spilling onto the floor. She had yet to vanish the wrappings of her gifts which at the very least were confined to one corner of the room. Her abandoned bottle of firewhiskey (which Merissa was quite sure she would never even be able to sniff again without feeling ill) was lying upon her bed next to the most incriminating items : the books on Salazar Slytherin, the only thing still neatly stacked and highly visible.

The girl came hesitantly into the room anyways. Her glasses made her looked permanently shocked, so it was unclear if she actually was to find Merissa in such a state. Merissa stared back up, rather uneasy. This small girl knew far too much and yet was still here, which only elicited whispers of danger in Merissa's mind.

"Are you sick?" Myrtle asked, her voice a whisper.

"Sort of," Merissa admitted, grateful she has left the firewhiskey on her bed where she doubted she would see it unless she was particularly observant. As if following her eyes, though she was not looking at it, Myrtle spotted the bottle to Merissa's dismay.

She looked back looking surprised, but Merissa couldn't tell if she actually was or not, "My mother says that alcohol is the devils work, that it makes you sick," she said rather knowingly, as if this made her very wise.

"Your mother -" Merissa stopped for a moment, unsure if she needed to vomit again, "Your mother is certainly correct."

"Do you need anything?" Myrtle asked.

"I- what?"

"Do you need anything?" Myrtle repeated, her voice still hushed, "Like a glass of water or a. . .pillow?" she finished somewhat unsurely. She clearly had no experience with such things, but Merissa was oddly touched by her offer despite this.

"Water would be great," she nodded.

While Myrtle filled a glass from the tap, Merissa watched her carefully. She was helping her despite what she must have heard. Could she have possibly not heard everything?

No, she thought when she saw the girl's expression when she turned around and saw her watching her. She had heard it. So she really was just kind then - Merissa couldn't see her having underhanded motivations. Myrtle Warren seemed far too meek a creature to know how to lie.

She took the water gratefully, pulling herself into a more dignified position as she sipped it slowly. It cleansed her mouth of the horrible taste and soothed her raw throat. She swished it around in her cheeks, and spit until the toilet, making the younger girl jump back, looking shocked. Her innocence was endearing.

"Why are you helping me?" Merissa finally asked, when the water had been drained and Myrtle hastily went to refill it.

Myrtle turned around, her eyes widening further at her question and Merissa was concerned she might just gape at her instead of responding as the moments passed before the girl's eyes began filling with tears, threatening to spill over the brim.

"You can't help yourself right now," the girl choked, "I know what that's like."

Merissa looked away, embarrassed, "I've heard about that - no! I mean-" she said as tears began streaking down the girl's flushed cheeks, "I just mean I talked to Charlus Potter when I was looking for you."

"He's very handsome," Myrtle blushed deeper, tears still flowing freely down her face. Merissa was feeling overwhelmed just looking at her. She couldn't imagine feeling even a single emotion as strongly as she was with several at the moment.

"Er - yes?" Merissa tried. She certainly didn't think so, maybe he wasn't brooding enough for her taste.

"But you can't think so because you're dating Abraxas Malfoy," the girl said, suddenly looking frightened as well now, "And he's - he's-" tears started leaking more quickly.

"Please don't cry," Merissa begged, trying to stand pushing herself up using the toilet as support, "He's been in here before, yes," she nodded, "I mean not in _here_ , but the common room," she said quickly seeing Myrtle's expression; she didn't need anymore ridiculous rumors being spread. She could only imagine the field day Olive Hornby would have if she heard Merissa was sneaking Abraxas into her bedroom - not that Olive was the patron saint of purity herself.

Merissa cleared her throat, hoping to regain some of her natural authority as she stood up, now forcing Myrtle to look up at her, "I've been wanting to talk to you about that."

"I won't tell anymore," Myrtle said instantly, surprising her.

"You won't?" she asked skeptically. While it didn't seemed that this girl would have many friends to tell it also struck her that providing juicy gossip would heightened her popularity. Maybe Myrtle was just too naive to see that.

"No," Myrtle shook her head, "I heard what you two were talking about, some of it at least. You are trying to stop Riddle from doing something. I don't like him, his friends are always mean to me."

Merissa was flummoxed by this girl, but shook her head, "You're sure you won't tell anyone?"

"I like you," the girl nodded, "You hexed that girl who teases me, Olive Hornby. You made her knees go backwards," she smiled as if remembering a fond childhood memory.

Merissa stifled a laugh, "I guess I did. She's a bitc - a cow really, don't listen to her."

Myrtle smiled warmly up at her, though her eyes were still watery, "I should get to bed, it's late."

Merissa nodded slowly, "Goodnight Myrtle."

"Goodnight Merissa."

Merissa's nose scrunched slightly at the sound of her full name when someone was not upset with her but she still smiled at the younger girl as she left, before falling asleep directly on the bathroom floor.

/_\

"Oh honey, you look awful," a voice came rippingly and far too loudly, as Merissa woke the next morning. She looked through her eyelashes at her surroundings, finding them to be very bright. Her cheek was rather cool from the bathroom tiles that she had slept soundly against, but the spot sprickled as she raised her head, blood rushing back to it.

"Don't be cruel Susan!" a higher voice snapped, making Merissa's head feel like it was about to crack in half. This voice was easy to recognize at least, not changed by a cold bitterness.

"Hi baby girl," Abby said, rubbing her friends back gently, "Are you okay?"

"No," Merissa sighed into the marble before raising her head to look at them. Susan was standing in the entrance, looking angry as she usually did lately. Abby had kneeled down next to her and was peering at her from beneath a large winter hat.

"Where'd you guys come from?" Merissa asked, squinting at Susan who was also wearing a heavy coat. The snow that dusted them made them appear as if they were antiques kept too long in the attic - sprinkled in white.

"Italy," Abby explained, as Susan decided she no longer cared to be a part of the conversation and moved back into the room -probably to unpack, Merissa speculated, "There was an air raid nearby where we were staying, so we just left. A lot of people did, so they set up a train to go early this year. Not everyone is back of course, but everyone who wanted to is here."

"Did Alphard. . ." she trailed off but Abby shook her head.

"We heard he stayed in Switzerland," she told her, as Susan scoffed from the next room.

The tall girl stomped in and glared at her friend, who was now sitting upright, her back against a cabinet, "Not asking about how we are, or about anything else, just where is something I can snog! That is so _typical_."

Merissa felt rather weary of this constant back and forth with Susan, however her pride was much stronger than any weakness she felt.

"I don't see how it could be typical, since the only person I ever snogged before Alphard's attempt was someone I have been going to marry since before I was born. So unless you know of some necking I got around to while I was in the womb I really don't know-"

"Oh Merissa you're so funny," Susan sneered, voice harsh as a slap, "You're so clever and pretty! So perfect."

"Compared to some I suppose," Merissa bit back, making her stomp out again, but this time leaving the dormitory all together. Merissa rolled her eyes up at her redhead friend who was biting her lip, watching the door their old friend had just exited through.

"She's been a nightmare all holiday," Abby told her apologetically as Merissa got up and got more water out of the glass Myrtle had gotten for her last night, "She would storm away anyone ever mentioned your name. Which was a lot, you know with all the drama between you and Abraxas."

Merissa groaned dramatically flopping herself down on her bed, where Charles leapt up to nuzzle her, as she lamented, "Couldn't her blasted cousins keep their mouths shut? It'll get back to my parents soon and I'll get a howler, or twelve."

"But you made up," Abby reminded her, also sitting down on her bed and running a hand down Charles, "You can pretend everything is fine now."

She hadn't told Abby about the specific circumstances of their makeup, as she couldn't without spilling his secret so her friend had some misconceptions about it. Or perhaps entirely misconceptions, if she was honest.

"That is true, and we will," she furthered, she pulled her comforter around herself and her cat, "But I fought with him a lot and that's enough reason for scolding. Look at what he was forced to get me for Christmas," she pulled out the ring from a long chain under her shirt.

"My goodness," Abby murmured, taking it into her palm as she moved into Merissa's bed, "Is that real?"

The door violently banged open just then, making both of them jump.

"I'm sure it is," Susan said waspishly, bursting into the room, evidently having heard some from outside. Her eyes landed on the diamond at once, though admittedly rather hard to miss. She scoffed flicking her sheet of silky black hair back as she continued, "Nothing like a normal wizard's yearly salary for Merissa Thorpe's enjoyment."

"I thought you left," Merissa snapped, face hardening instantly.

"Oh, I am," Susan snarled, picking up her bag, "I needed my books."

"Well go have a nice study session Nigellus," Merissa called sarcastically as her former friend left the room again, long hair swishing like an angry cats tail.

"Ignore her," Abby suggested, once the door had banged shut again, "That ring is lovely, whatever it cost. Why is is around your neck though?"

"It won't be on my finger until I'm seventeen I'm sure," Merissa told her, tucking it away. It suddenly had lost a lot of its appeal.

"We all have our doubts about Abraxas," Abby nodded, understandingly, "But you two always do seem to come back to each other."

Merissa gave what she felt to be a very unconvincing smile, but maybe she was getting better at them, because Abby allowed her to change the subject a moment later.

"How was Italy other than muggle war?" she asked, as if she did not visit it regularly.

Merissa found that her eyes seemed to gravitate to the skylight above as Abby painted a picture of the destruction that had ravaged the country. She had a feeling it would get worse before it got better.

* * *

 **To my wonderful reviewers:**

Purplestan: **Thank you for your continued support! I am glad you have enjoyed the last few chapters. I hope my hiatus didn't lose you as a reader (:**

EviColt: **Hi friend! Always a joy to see a review from you. I'm glad it was a surprise, I tried to gently hint at it throughout but ultimately it blindsided Merissa entirely as the society at the time was so intolerant of such things and I attempted to portray that since its focused on her (: Glad it didn't fall through. Their theatrics are a joy to write, there will be plenty more of that to come. Thank you again for being a super faithful reader, it means a ton (:**

Ivet: **Oh my goodness thank you thank you! I'm happy Abraxas/Merissa dream team is well received. They certainly balance each-other out. Not to spoil anything but the very next few lines of chapter 22 have some banter between them that I hope you'll enjoy. Abraxas and Alphard are also very different with their characters in general as well as their relationships with Merissa. Like Abraxas likes to say, she needs someone more level headed than her in times like these and Alphard just isn't that person. Don't get me wrong though, I still love Alphard/Merissa and there's certainly more insight that hopefully clarifies how she's feeling about the situation. Also Myrtle time! You're getting pretty good at predicting what will be important in the next chapter (:**

beefsupreme: **I am so blessed that you took the time to catch up when you were so busy with school. Your support means the world to me and I hope you continue to enjoy! I apologize for no Tom this chapter since I know you like it, but I swear the next chapter includes everyone's fav (: thank you again.**


	22. Unlikely Alliances

**Hi! Back again, on time by just the skin of my teeth, I know, but getting better I swear. This chapter is dialogue and Tom heavy so hopefully that's enjoyable and if not I am trying to alternate. If you notice any errors please tell me because I wrote this rather fast. Thank you for all your continued support, I love you all.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

January 11th, 1943

"But what if we just-"

"No."

"Okay but what if I-"

"No."

"It would really just be safer if we-"

"No we cannot obliviate her!" Merissa hissed back at Abraxas for what felt like the upteenth time. He groaned and looked upward are the cloudy sky as if begging for divine intervention and she ranted on, "Abraxas, this is ridiculous. She doesn't even want to tell anyone, and she hasn't yet. If she was going to she would have already."

He opened his mouth slowly but she snapped before he could say anything, "And we're not murdering her either! She's not a threat."

"You don't know that," he sulked, kicking up a tuft of grass he had excavated with his foot from under the snow. Since the return of the rest of the students from Christmas vacation, they had moved their rendezvous outside. The horrible weather made for uncomfortable meetings but at least it insured them privacy. Today they were walking the quidditch pitch together, their boots crunching in the thin layer of fresh snow, quick to meet the harder icy pact below.

"I know everything," she assured him, pulling the fur trimmed hood of her cloak around her face to hide a grin, "I also know that you are suppose to be the one speaking reason while I go out for blood."

He looked guilty down the grass he had just uprooted, though it seemed unlikely that he was concerned with the damage the field he had just made.

"I know," he sighed, "I've just spent so much time around Riddle these last few weeks, I swear he's starting to rub off on me."

"No no, none of that," she urged, "One is enough."

He nodded gravely before starting to walk and talk again, "Anyways, I suppose we'll let let our lives ride on the faith of a little third year," he concluded waspishly, "Is that what you do to keep off the pounds Mer? Create such stressful situations that you stop eating altogether?"

"Ha," she laughed humorlessly, flicking back her waves, "You caught me."

Abraxas concern may have been shrouded in nonchalance but she was far too familiar with his tendencies to be tricked. He was trying to gage her reaction even as they walked alongside each other, though he acted as if the deserted stands held his attention.

"Seriously, should I be worried?" he asked stopping her suddenly, with a firm hand on her boney shoulder, "I can't exactly monitor you at mealtimes anymore, but when you do show up, you tend to pay more attention to your books than your food."

"I am fine," she enunciated as if it would enter his mind easier if she was impeccable clear, trying to avoid this sensitive topic. Her brief bout of bulimia in her third year had earned her a spot in a particularly confidential rehabilitation center the next summer and the memories were hardly fond. Her parents had done their best to hush it up, but he knew of course. He held his breath with everyone else during holiday meals, waiting for her to take her first bite, even though she knew he didn't mean to. It was just in his nature to believe she was as fragile as she looked and she couldn't fault him for it.

"No you're not," he argued, the familiar lines of worrying creasing on his forehead, "Your ribs are starting to show through your shirts, and your skin has never been duller. Don't get me started on your eyes."

She looked up at him, exasperated, "Thank you, Malfoy. I needed that today."

He clapped her on the back probably planning on making a comeback, but then retracted it looking horrified, "You really are just bones, good Grindelwald."

She blinked back at him in irritation. He was just playing the role of the concerned boyfriend, she knew, but she failed to see the therapeutic value of pointing any of this out. If she could cast her worries aside she would have gladly, but they were stuck in his mind as if they had permanently attached themselves to the inside of her skull. Ignoring them felt like its own form of self-neglect.

"Come on," he said, suddenly breaking into long strides towards the castle.

"What are we doing?" she asked, hurrying to catch up with him. She could see the gleam of an idea in his eyes, some leap she had missed. He was quite intelligent even if he was forced to act like he wasn't by his current posse. At the very least he was able to demonstrate it around her.

"I think you've gotten bad enough that even an indifferent boyfriend can care," he told her, as they started up the steps, throwing the castle doors open as he went. Merissa was met by the smell of a hundred different tantalizing foods as they entered the Great Hall, bustling with activity as always, "And lunch just started."

She frowned as he began towing her towards the Slytherin table, "I don't-" she started but he shook his head, effectively silencing her, at least for now.

"Move, Avery," Malfoy snapped once they had reached his house table, putting on his coldest drawl. They were acting today, apparently.

Phillip looked oddly up at Merissa as she was gently pushed into the spot next to him, Abraxas settling on her other side. Riddle was watching them so she pretended Abraxas had shoved her much harder than he actually had.

"That hurt," she complained, rubbing her shoulder gingerly.

"You wouldn't be so breakable if you were eating," Abraxas replied tartly and the looked to Tom apologetically, "I hope this is okay, Riddle. I can't get her to eat any other way."

"I think that much is clear," Tom agreed, looking disdainfully from her cheeks, which with sunken slightly to her wrists that were as delicate as spunglass. It reminded him of the orphanage he came from, and he resented that.

"I'm not a child," she cried indignantly as Abraxas began to load her plate up with various delicious looking foods.

"You could have fooled me," Malfoy sneered, but even as he said this he was sure to give her a hefty portion of the potatoes he knew she liked.

Her nose turned up when he set the plate in front of her, however Abraxas gave her such a severe look for this that she began eating quicker than she would have, even knowing that they were putting on a show. She ate a good amount before deciding to make a point in her faked hunger strike. She set her silverware down noisily.

"You're not done," Abraxas told her, without looking up from his own plate.

She disregarded his comment, before Alphard, who had been systematically ignoring her by talking to Hornby (she suspected just to get a reaction from her), looked up at her for the first time since he had returned from the holidays, "You need to eat, Re. He isn't going to get whatever you're trying to prove."

"Hmphf," she managed to scoff though she didn't dare meet Alphard's eyes, especially not when she could feel Tom already watching her. Instead she began to eat again, this time until she was actually full.

"You did reasonable," Abraxas allowed, and Merissa wondered how serious he was, "Tomorrow I'll expect more though."

"Malfoy," Riddle interrupted sharply, "If you plan on continuing this. . ." he paused, making a show of trying to find the appropriate words, "Adorable regimen. . ." he finally coined it, "I must ask you do it at the Ravenclaw table. I'm sure you understand."

Merissa understood the ultimatum, but is was Alphard who spoke up again, "I'll eat with her Malfoy," he said, pushing his plate away, apparently done as well.

Merissa's eyes flickered between the two, unsure how their dynamic might have changed. Abraxas certainly had the right to be furious at him if he chose to enact it.

"How kind of you," Malfoy's lip curled, "To be taking care of so many of her needs."

She wished they didn't have so much practice pretending. Whether or not they hated each other was unclear to her.

"Come on, Re," Alphard ushered, offering her his arm, and ignoring Abraxas, "Let's go."

She took it somewhat reluctantly. They hadn't talked since he had left for Christmas break, and she wasn't sure how to act now that he had sent her the infamous letter. As they began walking he was deep in thought, pulling at his hair agitatedly as if it would stimulate conversation to break the heavy silence that followed them through the Great Hall and out into the staircase.

"It's not what you think, before you ask," she told him, fiddling with her own ring as they waited for a staircase to move to the correct floor. He looked up at her from the spot on the bannister he had been studying carefully. She knew he must be thinking back to third year, the last time she had looked like this, and making assumptions, "I'm not about to disappear to a center over the summer again. It's just part of my act with Riddle, you know."

They both looked back down to their prospective fiddling for a beat or two a pair of seventh years racing past them, laughter echoing off the walls as they disappeared around a corner.

"Maybe you should anyways," he sighed, after a moment, "It would be safer there for you."

She was shaking her head before he had finished his sentence, however, "Riddle won't risk anything unless we give him a reason to, which would mean slipping up, which we're being too careful to happen. You should see the cloaks Ab and I got over the break, they're brilliant."

"What?" he snapped, "Are you two friends or not? I can't keep up with what lie is current anymore, and soon neither will you. This game is getting too convoluted, and you're pouring too much into it. You're willing to stop eating, to alienate all your friends, to slowly kill yourself with paranoia just to prove a point."

His word cut her deep, as she knew she could not deny their truth, but she refused to accept them. It was no longer just to prove a point. It had becoming proving herself.

"I need to finish this," she insisted, "Don't you think there could be something dangerous in that chamber? Think if we can stop him-"

"No, I don't."

"What?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as she stopped mid step to stare at him, "Look Re, don't be upset, but I don't think the chamber exists really. It's clear to me that he's doing something sketchy, but not to do with some monster or secret legacy. I think he's just a creepy bloke, and he's probably forming some Slytherin mob, and I was optimistic enough to think we might catch him and get him detention or something."

"Why haven't you expressed any of this?" she demanded. For some reason his doubt in her theory felt like betrayal. Alphard had always been backing her, against Abraxas' tyrannical attacks on fun, against Hornby and even when her parents tried to keep her in. What hurt more than that, however was that he had not collaborated honestly with her.

"I didn't think it mattered why we were doing it," he said, holding his hand up defensively, "Look, I'll do whatever you need me to, I just want you to take care of other things too. Maybe washing your hair? It's been days, I can-"

She slapped his hand away, hard, as it tried to playfully pick up a strand of her hair, "Don't. Touch. Me."

His eyes were wide, soft as they took in her fury for a moment before she spun on her heel. As she started up the stairs, as he called after her, "Re, stop!"

"I have enough shadows, Black," she snarled back, fuming, "I don't need you to start."

He stopped dead looking like she had slapped her, and far more hurt than if she had. She didn't wait to see what he did, but swept up the stairs, leaving him dumbstruck on the steps.

/_\

When Merissa passed into potions, she was still angry from her earlier argument with Alphard, telling herself she was happy to see he had yet to take his place next to Abraxas. Gritting her teeth, she threw her bag into the table where Riddle was already seated, nearly hitting him in the process.

"I missed," she frowned, taking her spot beside him as she began to take out her potions kit, "Good thing I've charmed all my things to be impenetrable, right?"

His eyes narrowed at her before flickering briefly to her bag, still on the top of the table as if he suspected her on trying to trick him, "Are you blind or just incompetent of speech?" he asked, voice kept very polite, "You made your bag onto the table. Hence why it is on said table, and not the floor."

"I wasn't aiming for the table," she smirked.

He wasn't able to retort, because Slughorn bounded into the room, "Welcome class! Lovely to have you all back. We'll be brewing a strengthening solution today, instructions for which can be found on page 394. No time to waste!"

The classroom became noisy with the scooting of chairs, thumping of cauldrons and rustling of pages as everyone hurried to start. Merissa and her partner were in no hurry, both knowing her brewing abilities would have them done early again. Merissa flipped lazily to the page, fully aware it would annoy Tom. He finally stood up, realizing she would not be retrieving any snargaluff pus for them any time soon.

"Fetch some knotgrass too," she called lazily, having finally made it to the correct page and looking over her notes.

"I am no house elf Thorpe," he growled, leaning over the desk menacingly, "The only reason I put up with your antics is to have an extra hour for myself on Mondays, however the migraine you create is becoming making it less and less and worth it."

Several of their peers had looked up, as they generally did, but the pair were unfortunate enough to have Slughorn close enough to notice today.

"Riddle, Thorpe, please stay for moment after you are done," their professor requested, looking taken aback to have to discipline his favorites.

They both smiled at him before glaring at each other.

"Better hurry Riddle, tick tock," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. His eye twitched but he went anyways fists clenching and unclenching as he walked away. She was happy to see she was starting to get to him, though she was sure she was more damaged.

They worked in complete silence for the rest of the class. Merissa would stab a finger at the word on his page any time she needed something and he would shove it towards her once he was done preparing it. This lead to some imperfections in the final product, but neither said anything about it, of course.

About forty minutes later, Slughorn looked disappointed as he peered into the cauldron. Merissa knew that it should be a redder orange than it was, and that it could be thicker, but she was far more anxious of what Slughorn would tell them. If they got detention together. . .

She probably wouldn't survive it, she decided, peering at Riddle's stiff profile out of the corner of her eye. Like he said, without the edge she gave him in potions he had no real purpose for her.

Slughorn beckoned them into his office silently, leaving the rest of the class to themselves. Since Hornby's accident the class was far more vigilant in controlling their creations. He waited until they were both seated to speak.

"I want to start by saying that I am not angry with either of you. Merely disappointed."

His voice sounded like it would have fit in well at a funeral, and Merissa was tempted to roll her eyes, but sublimated to blinking slowly. After all, wasn't this exactly the sort of talk she would expect from him? He was hardly about to yell at his two favorite students.

"You two have seemed to let your social life creep into your performance within the classroom," Slughorn continued, "Your potion today was passable, but would not work on a larger wizard because if the addition of wormwood without anything to absorb it. And your scores on your last essay's were abysmal for your standards" his voice was stern before he added with a warm smile, "Although I found your bit on daffodils being overlooked in potion making interesting Miss Thorpe."

Riddle had not been able to contain his anger at this statement as his wand sparked. Merissa jumped at this, shaky as ever these days. Slughorn pursed his lips before saying, "You may find it mutually beneficial to be civil with each other," Riddle seemed unable to control his eyes now as they flashed, "Better to have friends than enemies, Mr. Riddle."

Tom was either or good actor or these words actually surprised him. Merissa watched as an alien expression came over his face, unrecognizable on his features. Slughorn seemed settled by this - rather than unsettled like Merissa - and dismissed them, "Very well, be on your way. Good day to you both."

Slughorn returned to the classroom, leaving them in his office alone. Tom was still wearing the strange expression, which made her even more eager than usual to leave his presence. She stood up, making it to the door before Riddle called from behind her, "Thorpe, wait."

"Not today Satan," she hummed to herself, slamming the door behind her, rattling the bottles inside the small office. Out in the freedom of the corridor Merissa was sure to take several sharp turns, any footsteps in the distance having to potential for being his. Once she had made it within a few strides of the library she bounded inside, grateful as she made it to the safety of it's walls. There was no way he would hex her in the confines of this haven, she thought

Wasting no time she hopped onto her favored chair, dangling her legs off the overstuffed arm, before stopping to snap at an older Slytherin who was staring at her, "Can I help you?"

He looked away, annoyed. Merissa's bluntness often rubbed more traditional purebloods the wrong way entirely. Satisfied, she began to work on her potions homework, not wanting another lecture. She was allowed almost a half hour of silence, before she spied a familiar figure over her parchment, which was now covered in her homework.

For a moment she hoped Tom might walk past her, but once it was clear she was in his intended path she jumped out of her seat with every intention of hitting his shoulder as she passed. Before she could put her plan into action however, he snapped, "Sit down, Thorpe."

She lowered herself back down, favoring an upright position rather than her usual lounge, so that she might be more ready to run, if necessary. She found herself thinking it would be more than likely that running would indeed be in her near future as Tom put up a ward to prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

"Why are you doing that?" she asked eyeing his wand nervously as he put it down into the table, "Why would other's not hearing us be important?"

"This is a library," he reminded her, raising his eyebrows.

Merissa adjusted her skirt so it covered her knees to avoid showing she was confused. Being around him made her feel like the more covering she had, the safer she would be. Riddle was also shifting as he sat down though, looking less cocky than Merissa had ever seen him. He was spinning his family ring around his finger quickly.

"Are you leaving me for a more easily frightened potions mate?" she drawled, finally, "I wouldn't blame you, some people like a challenge and some people don't."

"I have come to a conclusion," he began, eyes still glued to his ring, going round and around his finger with increasing speed.

"Okay, great," she muttered sarcastically, "Could you take a suggestion as well? Leave me alone."

His eyes flashed and he stopped his fiddling, "I might remind you that lately, you have been the one antagonizing me."

"I would call it self defense," she argued, "You have used two of three unforgivables on me, _I_ might remind _you_."

"The key point being that I have not used the third," he said, flicking his wrist in dismissal, as if he found these to be minor offenses (and she realized he probably did consider them as such), "The conclusion is that as much as you irritate me, it would not be advisable to kill you."

"Again, great news."

He ignored her commentary, "As you existence is a nuisance to me at the moment, and because I have decided against killing you, I have concluded additionally, it would be wasteful not to utilize your talents."

She blinked, convinced she was misunderstanding his direction. She was unsure how she would feel about it even if it was. He did not leave her wondering however.

"You are above average in most subjects, as well as I expect would have a fresh perspective on a problem I have run into in my research. You certainly seem to have opinions on most things."

She was starting to smile as she pointed out, "I'm more than above average. I'm beating you in Transfiguration and Potions. Just behind you in everything else."

"You are a woman, which knocks you down a few points by default," he said factually.

She glared at him, all humor wiped from her face, "You're an arse," she seethed, snatching up her bag, "I don't know why I expected any different. In fact, I didn't even."

"Wait," he said smoothly, putting a hand on her arm to attempt to apprehend her, "I think not killing you is plenty generous, however if you need convincing, I will let you make one further request."

This made her stop, though she was sure to still rip her arm from his grasp and fold it in front of her chest, glaring down at him. He must really need her help if he was offering her a wild card. She considered this for a moment before saying, "What if I request to hex you?"

He didn't look impressed by the threat, "I'd like to see you try."

"Hmmm," her face lit up, "Okay. Admit I'm objectively better at some things than you."

"That's what you want? Your ego is insatiable."

She laughed, sitting back down into her chair, leaning her elbows on the arm and resting his chin on her hands. Antagonizing him was surprisingly pleasing, "No, yours is, that's what makes this so worth it."

"My ego is proportionate to my abilities," he informed her.

"That is impossible," she countered, with a grin, "But I will be leaving now, unless you can live with those terms - oh, and no more messing with Abraxas."

He glared at her, "You may be better at some things . . . like caring about Malfoy. Fine, he has neutrality from me."

"Almost," she beamed, pushing herself forward in her chair and crossing her legs, "I want more specifics. How am I better?"

He shifted away from her, though the movement seemed more reflex than anything. Nevertheless heightened her mood further still. How the tables had turned if he was the one feeling uncomfortable.

"You're better at being big headed," he drawled.

She smiled and started making to leave again. His eyes widened ever so slightly, panicked. Hiding her grin she continued to brush past him as if she didn't know what was about to happen. He had already flinched and what was better was that she was there to see it. He needed her for something desperately.

"Potions!" he spat, just as she knew he would. She pretended to hesitate, deciding whether or not he had groveled enough, which of course he had not, "You're brilliant at understanding the bigger picture that the ingredients make."

"Better," she agreed, sitting down on the arm of the chair he was in, making him shift to the edge, "And my transfiguration?"

"I'm sure your snuff boxes are spectacular," he grumbled, not even turning his head towards her as he spoke. This was evidence enough for Merissa that she had the upper hand. Nothing was constant and he could flip the table on her tomorrow, but for now she felt smug enough to allow him off the hook.

"You've got yourself a deal, Riddle. From me and my flawless snuff boxes."

/_\

A half hour later, Merissa was following him down the corridor on the seventh floor that she had ambushed Lestrange in earlier in the year. She could hardly believe that it had only been a few months, as she felt much older now, though that could have been due to her severe lack of sleep. Once they reached the tapestry of Barnabas she looked at him expectantly, eager to see how he hoped his mysterious hideaway. As soon as she saw his expression however, she knew had had expected too much. He was Tom Riddle after all.

"Turn around," he commanded.

She did so reluctantly, chewing on her tongue. It would have been nice to have a key to this place, if only to hand it over to Headmaster Dippet and have him expelled. The idea of ridding him from her life was tempting, even if he was currently on good behavior. Her back to him the statue of her ancestor that stood across the hall seemed to be looking at her disapprovingly and she prayed it wasn't because she wasn't because she was making a mistake.

Or die. That would also be bad.

"I hope you have more decency than to hex someone while their back is turned," she muttered, wand clutched anxiously to her side.

"I don't," he assured her, "But you can turn back around now."

She refused to let herself look impressed at the large door that had appeared on the previously blank wall. She pushed past him to open it, grimacing when she peered inside. It was a large and crowded room filled to the ceiling in some place with what appeared to be pure junk. It was so vast that in the dim light she could not see the back walls, so instead it appeared to be a backless, limitless place.

"This is would be a great place to dump your body," he smiled, seeming to read her mind, as he moved past her, "Follow me."

He lead her to the cleanest corner on the room. He had cleared it it and situated a large sofa in the middle. Surrounding it were shelves of books, some looking ancient. It reminded her uncannily of the Ravenclaw common room, which he had so recently complimented.

He scrupulously removed a dark bound book and gave her a sidelong glance before hissing at it. She had no doubt he had hoped it would frighten her, but she stared steadily at it instead. Really, she could have laughed if the snake-like bindings did not draw back, allowing him to open it. A shiver ran down her spine, so she moved closer, hoping to distract him from it.

"What is it?" she asked, not having to conjure interest anymore. It looked incredibly old, and if this was what had caused him to call a ceasefire, it was undoubtedly important too.

"That's not important for what I need you to do," he said, making her face fall. He was still so guarded, it was impossible to extract anything from him.

"What exactly do you need me to do then?" she snapped

"I can't read it," he explained, frowning down at the pages.

She grinned, "I think that might be a problem for a nanny or tutor."

"It is in a language I don't recognize," he furthered, expression darkening, "Aren't you some sort of linguist?"

"My mother is," she clarified, "I only speak ten very well, though I bet I could recognize whatever that is."

He nodded slowly and she leaned in brushing his arm with her own as she tried to read over his shoulder. Shrugging his shoulder he managed to block her view and nearly hit her forehead in one quick movement.

"That would require me to look at it," she bitingly, as he moved away from her the moment their skin touched.

He warily handed her the book, "The binding is fragile," he warned.

"I'll manage," she said, eyes flicking over the page. The symbols on the page were inked in by hand, ancient just like the thinning parchment it was written on. It crinkled fondly under her fingers, the familiar feeling allowing her to recognize them. He watched stonily as if her light fingers were being much rougher than they were.

"You're lucky you came to me," she said after suspending him a bit longer than she needed to, "This is a hybrid."

"Of which two?" he asked, looking relieved. He had been labouring over this page for days.

"Latin and Parseltongue. If only we had a Parselmouth, huh?" she asked innocently, meeting his dark eyes. She could have sworn he almost rolled them at her before remembering himself and glaring instead.

"I think I will manage, thank you Thorpe."

"It will take a while regardless," she told him somberly, eyes returning to the page, "Several days even if we worked nonstop, which I don't have time for anyways. I can make time on weekends only"

"Fine," he snapped, "I'll copy it onto parchment so we don't have to come here. Too conspicuous."

"For you," she agreed, handing him back the book which he accepted as if it were his first born child. Her eyes gleamed at he looked up at her, waiting patiently for what he correctly identified as the beat before she taunted him, "It must be so inconvenient to hold your group meetings here, when everyone has to come from the dungeons."

He didn't give her quite the response she had hoped for and she found herself wondering if he meant for her to follow him in the first place. Everything seemed to happen only when he wanted them too anyways. It was difficult not to accept him as having some higher power occasionally.

"I could always go back to killing you Thorpe," he reminded her, "I know you don't know half of what you think. If you knew anything about my meetings you would have used it already."

Perhaps she was getting better at reading him at the very least though, because he did seem bothered, which could only be a good sign.

"I know how to hit nerves it seems," she smiled, "See you Saturday."

* * *

 **Big changes! Tell me what you think (: Reviws, follows and favorites are always appreciated.**


	23. Old Parchment and Ink Blots

**Hi guys! I know I'm not quite on time but I'm getting back into the groove I swear. Thank you for those of you who have continued reading and reviewing and giving me any and all kind of feedback, even if it just that I see you reading the chapters on my views as I post them. Shorter chapter by Tom heavy so pick your poison I suppose. Thank you all again and until next time,**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

January 16th, 1943

As the rest of the school resumed to a normal hum after the quiet break Merissa herself felt as if she was watching herself in third person. Her body had performed all the normal tasks of the day: she woke up, took a longer shower than she should have, hurried down to breakfast, glared at Susan, went to Artimacy (where she with some practice learned not to glare at Riddle as she reminded herself they were on a truce that she didn't particularly feel like ending), played the role of a diligent student, went on her patrols, pretended to listen to Thomas before going to bed and repeating the entire process again. With the existing cease fire she found that silence became less deafening and she didn't jump at the sound of a person approaching as much. Even mealtimes became more productive, although it was unclear whether this was because of her feeling of well being or Abraxas's constant piling of food onto her plate. Either way, both seemed better for it, even going as far as to peacefully brew together, much to Slughorn's zeal.

Merissa still found herself wary, however when the weekend came and she was expected to meet Riddle alone in the library to begin their work on translating the ancient journal. It had crossed her mind many of times that this had all been a ruse to get her guard down. So much so that she all but dragged Abraxas from breakfast to council her in the Ravenclaw common room, their conversation masked by the general din of the room as the excitement for the weekend peaked.

"You have to go," he insisted, as Merissa twirled her wand around her fingers, avoiding his expectant gaze, "He wouldn't be showing you anything if he suspected how much you knew," he reminded her.

"I agree," she nodded nodded slowly, her wand spinning faster, "I'm worried what he will do if I'm no longer useful though. I am already overestimating the time it will take to translate."

"Find something else he needs done," he suggested.

Her chin jutted out the tiniest inch, finally meeting his eyes, if only to give him an expression that suggested she thought he had gone mad.

"Thorpes don't grovel," she retorted, though he had already let out a small groan a moment before, anticipating her response.

"That's self preservation Meri. It might keep you alive."

She frowned at him and began spinning her wand again. He did have a point, though on occasion she caught herself wondering if Riddle would really kill her at this point. It was no longer a question of whether or not he could be bothered to deal with the consequences, rather if he found her useful enough to ask favors for if he would be reluctant to end her at all. But it was a fleeting thought, and whenever she gave it too much consideration she poked gaping holes in the idea. As much as she might want that to be true, if only so she could relax a little, it just wasn't.

She shrugged nonchalantly as if the idea didn't bother her much, "Fine, but only because I'd like to live to know what he's up to."

"How reasonable of you,"Abraxas sighed, but it was clear to Merissa that inwardly he was glad. Though Abraxas could hardly be called brave, he did have a knack for self-preservation and Merissa knew he wished she took similar precautions. He leaned back on his seat and massaged the bridge of his nose for a few moments before glancing up at the door where a pair had just entered. His jaw tightened, but he still managed to sound light as he said, "Look, it's your fans."

Merissa's eyes flickered to the door as well, though she had no doubt who he was talking about. Susan and Alphard had just entered, Susan clinging to his arm and laughing outrageously at some joke he must have made outside the common room. The pair had been spending much more time than usual together, probably hoping to get a reaction from Merissa, Abraxas had hypothesized. Merissa found this to be believable as Alphard's eyes seemed to gravitate towards to her as he sat down with Susan. Merissa averted her own and acted as if she hadn't seen him, however she thought the tightness in her face might have betrayed her if he looked closely enough. But Alphard hadn't given her more than a fleeting glance this last week, his anger over their argument far greater than she had originally anticipated. Merissa wished she could talk to him, but she never saw him without Susan attached to his arm these days. It was difficult to reconcile with either when they were a package deal, not that she felt that she had much to apologize about to begin with.

"They are the one's being unreasonable, not me," she had sniffed when Abraxas had asked her if they were joining them for Hogsmeade next week, his nonchalance all too transparent.

However when she let her arrogance go in the late hours of the night, when the darkness swelled and the hangings around her bed seemed to close in around her, Susan's rhythmic breathing just a few feet away seemed to be a constant reminder of how unhappy she was without them. But none of this would ever be admitted to anyone, them least of all.

"Irrelevant," she sighed, turning back to Abraxas.

Abraxas nodded knowingly and Merissa reclined back into her seat and began fiddling with her wand, attempting to bewitch the heavens painted so carefully on the ceiling to move from their usual patterns. This had become a ritual for her, although, she hadn't had much luck so far. Whatever magic had charmed them to follow the real stars above was beyond her, or at the very least allusive.

"When are you meeting him anyways," Abraxas asked, glancing at his large silver watch, "It is almost noon already."

Her brow furrowed as she considered the stars, still frustratingly stationary, "I don't know actually. I was planning on going down soon and waiting for him to appear of of the darkness," she waved her fingers at him mysteriously.

"He usually finished lunch early," he told her, unamused, "Shall I come with you?"

She wrenched her hand back from its rest on the soft blue chair to look at him again, "Best not to," she said as she stood, "He seems kind of put off with all the time you've been spending with me lately. Don't want to poke a sleeping dragon."

"That was poorly integrated if I'm being kind," he noted, "Your truce has hardly made a different on your sleeping, hasn't it?"

"I have no reason to trust him," she defended, following him out, ignoring Alphard's eyes trailing them, "He has given me no reason to. We just have a understanding at the moment."

"I'll just settle for eating again," he recited, as this had become his mantra the last week.

/_\

The books in the section of the library that Merissa liked best seemed to sag the very mahogany wood that made up the shelves. Some of the books were old worn things that smelled warm and musty with different notes depending in which kind of beetle was ground for the ink or what the yellowing glue that stuck the pages together was made of. Their pages rustled like leaves in autumn, the golden-yellow parchment turning easily as if it recognized the pull of eager fingers. Some were new, the bindings unbroken, smelling of fresh paper and crackling like a fire when cracked open, slippery pages untouched and full of potential. Some covers were bound in leather, some in woven cloth and the special few sprinkles throughout encased in dragonhide, gaudy gems throughout. What all of them had in common however, was the subject. These books had everything anyone could ever hope to want to know about potions from the various properties of the plants that went inside to the different brewing in pewter or steel cauldrons. She had spent so much time in this section that the shelves were even more familiar than the walls of her dormitory or her bed at home. Sitting here she could pick out her favorites: the tawny skin of _Brewed and Brewer: The Relationship Between the Potioneer and their Creations_ , the emerald hue of _Essential Properties All Successful Potions_ and of course the ever useful _One-Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._

But now her eyes were not fixed on any of these titles but instead on the green apple she was spinning on the table. It went around and around, a blur almost from her slightly coaxing with her other hand from under the table. Yet of course, as in all things, her magica was less than exact. The apple suddenly went veering off into Tom's arm which was currently scribbling onto a piece of parchment on the table they were sharing, making his eyes shoot up accusingly. It was about the third time this had happened in the last hour, to his defense.

"Are you going to eat that?" Riddle snapped, shoving it with little grace back to her side of the table with his elbow. She caught it as it rolled off the edge and spun it around within her hands as she considered him. It hadn't been her idea to pick up this snack; Abraxas had insisted she grabbed something before she came to the library. When she had arrived Riddle had been waiting in her normal seat, to her deep irritation and she found she hadn't had much of an appetite since. She was now in a far less comfortable chair, pushed up to the table where he had spread a copy of the page from the journal, as well as a piece of parchment for the translation which they had been collaborating on.

"Would you like it?" she offered sweetly, extending the fruit towards him as if it was a peace offering before yanking it back and taking a large bite.

"I would _like_ for my translator to look like they weren't about to pass out," he retorted snidely, as he dipped his quill in ink, writing down a word that had apparently been in Parseltongue.

She chewed slowly. She had been feeling faint recently, but she had attributed it to being concerned he was going to kill her, "Sure, Riddle."

"What is this word?" he asked, ignoring her comments, "I don't recognize it so its Latin."

Sighing she leaned over just enough to read the word, straining her eyes quite a bit to avoid being any closer to him. His writing was impeccably neat but the ostentatious swirls of his script made reading it rather dizzying.

"Building," she finally concluded, leaning back into the safety of her chair, "But context matters, what are the words around it?"

His quil paused over the paper long enough to drip a few spots of ink onto the parchment, a feat which she was sure he would normally never allow. Now, he seemed too distracted in his internal battle between getting this project done and telling her as little as possible. Personally she hoped the latter won over the former. Even with a truce she would have taken on a venomous tentacula plant with no gloves to get dirt on the ever untouchable Tom Riddle.

"New and structure," he replied grudgingly after the pause.

"Reconstruction then," she leaned in interestedly, "Did the writing look different than the rest on this page, Riddle?"

"Yes, it was in a different language."

She gave him a nasty look, "I caught that. I meant the penmanship."

"It was in a completely different language, of course it was different."

"You are so uncooperative," she accused, slamming her hand down in frustration on the table, "Do you want my help or not?"

The librarian flitted around the corner, eyeing them suspiciously to which they both gave saccharine smiles at until the elderly witch reluctantly went around the corner. The pleasant expression dripped off Riddle's face like water as soon as they were alone. With his lip upturned he admitted, "Yes, fine, it was different."

Merissa smiled, making his expression darkened further "What is so amusing, Thorpe?"

"This was written later," she explained, feeling rather smug "Hundreds of years later probably."

"How could you possibly know that?" he demanded.

His nasty mood couldn't dampen her self-satisfied feeling however. It was so typical of him to be upset whenever even a hint of the fact that she might be smarter than him reared up. If only he knew just how much she knew. . . but then she would probably be dead, she guessed so maybe she could live with just these little victories.

"Well most of this journal was written around the time of the founders right? Right?" she demanded when he looked reluctant to respond.

"Correct," he allowed.

"The castle was brand new then, there wouldn't be reconstruction to the level this is describing. And this is talking about pipes. There was no pumping here until the 18th century."

His expression flashed to pure glee for the most fleeting of moments before he composed himself again. Merissa blinked several times before reorienting herself, thrown off as if by a bright beam of light. She didn't miss it however and was pleased to have the advantage that she appeared as if she had.

"That is true," he agreed, trying to hide his thrill at this discovery, "But I hardly see how that's relevant."

"Yes you do," she sneered, tossing her hair back haughtily, "You just don't want me to figure it out before you."

"Keep eating Thorpe, you're getting delusional."

She disagreed but took a bite anyways. It was still too soon and she didn't know nearly enough. He seemed relieved when she continued, "The next word is delta so change."

Nearly four hours later Merissa was close to falling asleep as she squinted at the page, only the light of a dying lamp aiding her. The rest of the library was quiet, hardly anyone spending Saturday's inside its wall to begin with and the smells of the feast drew out those who had been to the warmth of the Great Hall. What had before been annoyingly decorative script was not illegible nonsense to her.

"Floor," she finally decided, the consideration not at all in her translating ability but all in his handwriting. He scribbled the word down without hesitation so she guessed it must have made sense in the sentence he had so far so that at the very least was a victory.

"We should stop," he decided brusquely and her heart nearly dropped in relief.

She forced herself to look annoyed however, "Fine, we still have a long way to go."

"Which is why I will see you tomorrow," he agreed without so much as a glance up from packing away his quill and ink pots.

She scowled. Since when did he have the audacity to think he had any power, even of suggestion - yet alone dictation - over her life? Was he so quick to forget who she was, what she had proved to him. Maybe she was reading too far into it, but is was also quite possible that she wasn't.

"I can't do tomorrow," she said coolly, crossing her arms in defense.

He stopped putting away his things to give her a deep stern look. She stared right back at him, unblinking.

"I would appreciate it if you would clear some time in your busy schedule to finish this," he tried again, this time using the smooth voice he reserved for teachers and other figure of authority. His face was innocent as well except for a glint in his eyes that she recognized all too well.

"I might be able to make the time for it," she sighed loftily.

His bag was packed now and he rose from his seat to tower over her, "I hope so," he told her, his voice hardly above a whisper but clearer than is he was speaking into her ear, "Because I won't ask so nicely next time."

He strode away without so much as a glance, leaving Merissa with an icy feeling in her spine that she couldn't quite shake, even with a lingering shower and in the warmth of her bed.

* * *

 **She's finally involved! Even if she doesn't know it yet! Oh boy, I have big plans for the next few chapters, leave reviews with predictions (:**

 **To my spectacular reviewers:**

Ivet: **Thank you so much for continuing to review it means the absolute world to me. As for Merissa an alcohol I just want to make clear that I do not condone excessive drinking in any way shape or form. Alcoholism is a very serious disease. That being said Merissa is a very flawed character and she hasn't found herself yet so she does what in her mind will make things better, but in most cases it actually makes things worse. Abraxas is her only real healthy coping mechanism at this point, I agree that they need to hang on to eachother. Much more Myrtle to come is all I'm going to say about her for now hehe. As for now, Alphard and Merissa's situation is still rocky as well as with Susan and hopefully the insight into whats happening with that is provided in this chapter. There was certainly a lot of Tom and Merissa in this chapter and more in the next as well. Thank you again friend!**

CarolinaFlint: **Oh my goodness I saw that you were following I had no idea you were reading it all but ahhhhh thank you! that is such a compliment especially coming from such an amazing author like yourself (: I'm glad you've been enjoying the character development and world building - those are definitely skills I'm trying to broaden while playing around with this story. I may or may not have had that in mind while writing this chapter. In regards to the Tom sneaking into the Ravenclaw tower again, no comment haha. Super happy the fight came across well, I'm always concerned writing conflict like that. Hope you have enjoyed since! Thanks again for your kind words.**


	24. Same Players, New Game

**Heyo! I should probably just accept the fact that every chapter I'm going to apologize for being late, however I do have an actual reason other than procrastination this time, I swear. I had a breach on one of my google accounts about two weeks ago so I changed all my passwords. I didn't consider that this would log me out of my gmail on my phone though which is what I use to get notifications from this site. So I posted the last chapter and then that all happened so I didn't received any review of new follow or anything through notifications and so I didn't even check on my story and was feeling pretty bad about it and what not. So anyways I eventually realized I wasn't getting any emails so I checked got everything once I signed in hahaha. So anyways long story short I got everything now and have been writing this chapter since its, so THANK YOU guys for not abandoning me. I apologize if this chapter had errors (and please tell me if you notice any) because I wanted to get it out to you guys asap since I took so long already. I will respond to all reviews in the next update so please leave them because they really do help encourage me to write faster. As always:**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The next morning was met with more determination than the day before and after careful consideration Merissa settled herself into a new plan. The first step was easy - she penned several short letters to various recipients, sealed them with the family crest (which took nearly twenty minutes of rummaging through her trunk as she used the silver stamp only when it was necessary) before making the voyage to the owlery to send them off. As she watched the tawny trio of birds disappear she couldn't help but feel rather pleased with herself. There were of course about a million ways that everything could go wrong but she felt confident enough that if she was careful they could be minimized and avoided entirely. Perhaps it was just Riddle's perpetual confidence rubbing off on her, but doing something did feel like the right thing. Even if she did get caught she wasn't doing anything _wrong_ necessarily, though she knew that would be a pointless defense to the offending parties. She could hear Abraxas' exhausted warning as clearly as if he was beside her as she descended the long spiral stairway down from the owlery but decided to drown them out with her good spirits. He worried too much anyways.

With this in mind she made it all the way down to the Great Hall with a pleasant feeling in her stomach - although this could also be attributed to the fact that breakfast was in full production. As she walked past the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables she eyed the lines of golden brown toast, steam rising in little coils and the heaps of sausage and egg that rose like small mountains from the tables. It smelled divine, but Merissa couldn't help but notice how the line up of muffins lacked the raspberry creme ones that tasted like summertime and how the butter moulds were about half their normal size. Sugar bowls were all but absent from the tables. No one liked these reminders of how serious the war was becoming but for Merissa it was more than just a unpleasant reminder - it was downright infuriating. Surely magic could have fixed this by now, and for what reason should they, wizards, suffer from the conflicts of them, muggles.

What was worse was that she knew exactly why she thought this as well. As much as she liked to actively reject her parents attitudes it was the way she was raised - it was the way everyone she knew was raised - and for that it couldn't be all wrong.

Deep in her thoughts Merissa realized she had just walked a table too far and was heading to her normal spot beside Abraxas at the Slytherin table rather than the empty seat next to Abby in her own house table. She kept walking down the aisle between the two considering her options. Generally Susan's presence would deter her, however the dark haired girl was suspiciously absent from the Ravenclaw table, and indeed from the Great Hall at all. Additionally Riddle was at the Slytherin table, just across from where she would have sat, and she told herself fiercely that was a very bad thing. Her decision was concreted when she saw him pause in his conversation with Lestrange to look up at her. She nearly dived into the Ravenclaw table to avoid his gaze and it took a rather puzzled greeting from Abby and friendly nod from James for her to realize why she did it.

What she had done this morning was replaying through her head, and more importantly, so was what she was going to do next. If he was even half the legimmens he claimed to be she needed time to compose herself and push down her elation, even if it was just a few hours.

"Good morning," Abby greeted, eyebrows still arched in surprise on her small forehead.

"Good morning," Merissa agreed, still reeling from her near mistake. She grappled for something else to say, all too aware how silent the Slytherin table behind her had gone. Riddle's eyes were burning holes in the back of her head, "Where's Susan?" she managed before immediately cursing herself mentally.

Abby's brows climbed higher but her features also pinched slightly as if she was looking out upon a rather bright day, "She's with Alphard," she responded factually, but the words seemed to carry much more meaning than just that.

"Right," Merissa agreed quickly before turning to James, "Is that the morning Prophet?"

James nodded, his bright eyes drinking in the story he had flipped to. Merissa had learned rather quickly as they had become friends not to take his lack of attention as a slight. Peering over his shoulder she found he had a good reason to be absorbed in the paper as well.

"More Grindelwald?" she asked lightly, selecting a piece of toast. The last thing she wanted was to sound too interested, especially given the unnatural stillness she could still sense coming from behind her at the Slytherin table. There was no real reason to try to keep this private- it was new to nearly everyone - but still she wasn't found of being eavesdropped upon.

"Yes," James agreed, still reading over the article as if he expected it to be encrypted, "Though its more no new than news. This is just saying that he hasn't been spotted in several days."

Merissa's eyes narrowed as she leaned further over his shoulder to read it. He surrendered it to her hands and she took it up inches from her nose and began her own investigation on the seemingly harmless print.

"Isn't that good news?" Abby asked hesitantly as she observed Merissa's rather severe expression, "If he isn't out he can't be doing much."

"You'd be surprised how much powerful men get done behind closed doors," Merissa muttered, her jaw taunt. Her mind was replaying all the times she thought the same as Abby when her father would spend hours behind the heavy mahogany doors of his study. Even as a child Merissa recognized in awe the power the those closed doors contained. Anything could happen behind them.

"What does your father think about all of this?" Abby asked, her voice attempting to raise a note higher than it should have been betraying how loaded the question was.

Merissa kept her eyes glued to the paper as an excuse not to look Abby in the eyes. As if she had to think about it at all. Although he might act indifferent towards such things when with the right company, Gregor Thorpe was hardly a tolerant man. There was a reason no muggleborn had been hired in his department since he took over, why they got along so well with the Malfoy's, why Merissa had never dared invite Abby to spend the holidays with them. It was hardly permitted that Merissa spend so much time with a halfblood, and if she was honest, sometimes she did think of her friend differently for it.

"Father thinks he's mad of course," Merissa told her.

And it wasn't a lie either. Her father's opinion of muggles was that they should be kept as far away from wizards as possible. Involving them in their lives, even to have them as slaves, was unacceptable. Although sometimes Merissa thought anything less than mass genocide would be seen as a weak effort to him.

Abby nodded, visibly relieved but James was watching her knowingly. Although his family was hardly as affluent as her's ( _gypsies_ , Merissa's mother had scoffed when she heard his name, _vagrants and fortune tellers_ ) he was still a pureblood and heard plenty. Enough to know that no one in the Thorpe bloodline for the past 5 centuries had so much as said good day to a muggle.

The trio finished their breakfast in relative silence, Merissa even going as far as to allow Thomas to swoop in on them. He was don in his quidditch uniform, blinding them with bright sapphire as he sat down. She blinked at him for several seconds, racking her brain for how their could possibly be a match today before he grinned, blinding her yet again and began speaking.

"Practicing today, care to come and get a sneak peak of our moves?" he asked cheerily. His grin turned conspiratory as he turned his eyes to Merissa, "Ravenclaw's only though, don't think I haven't noticed how much time you're spending with -"

"We'd love to," Merissa spoke over him rather hurriedly.

She had forgotten about the impression he had about her and Tom. In reality her smile was slipping off her face faster than she could construct it. Nothing sounded more grueling than being forced outside into the freezing slush that was far too wet to be classified as snow but cold nonetheless. Even if she enjoyed quidditch, Thomas was an incredibly dull captain to watch. The majority of practices were spent performing drill after drill with no purpose in sight. Susan had complained endlessly about them before -

But that wasn't safe territory to dwell on either so Merissa forced herself to focus back on Thomas's elated face. She found with some surprise he was talking, Abby now sporting a rosy glow.

" . . .and the team really made some strides since the last game. It was a hard loss but I think I have remedied the problem. After reading the entire collection of Rules Handbooks thrice over I think I may have come up with an appropriate understanding of the fundamental purpose of the game which really gives me an advantageous position over . . ."

Merissa was not listening again, her eyes wandering along the other tables at the stragglers finishing their breakfasts, some breaking out textbooks to begin reading for the upcoming week of classes. Merissa knew exactly where her stack of reading was - untouched on her nightstand as they had been all weekend. Her meetings with Riddle had seemed more pressing than the chance of flunking a pop quiz from Professor Binns. Eager to think of anything but the unavoidable long night she would have tonight she kept her eyes wandering through the throngs of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Alex Prince waved when he caught her eye, squeezed between a pair of surprisingly delicate looking girls which made him appear even larger than usual. She nodded back, although this was another reminder that she had done nearly nothing for her class with him so far. Drifting further back she found a more mindless distraction of watching Charlus Potter levitate a large platter of scones, making them whizz in concentric circles around the plate much to his housemates amusement (that was before their Head Girl came by and nearly dragged him out by the nape of his neck, making the whole table roar with laughter). Grinning to herself, Merissa felt a tug on her own arm.

Looking up she discovered her hand had been taken captive, Abby dragging her to her feet expectantly. She blinked down at the girl who was ushering her with surprising force toward the entry way and out into the stormy morning.

"Where are we going?" Merissa asked blankly. Going outside still sounded far from agreeable. In fact she was in downright protest of the idea.

Abby gave her a exasperated huff as she continued prodding her forward, through the vast entry hall, "The quidditch pitch of course, we're going to watch Thomas play. Honestly, Merissa, do you pay attention to anything he says?"

"No," Merissa shrugged making her small friend groan loudly.

Truthfully she had meant to give Thomas some weak excuse, but he yards in front of them now flanked by the rest of his team and more importantly right beside Susan which made this impossible. Her meetings with Riddle was in a few short hours, and she knew he would be furious if she were late, but somehow that made the idea more enticing. After all, wasn't igiting his temper her end goal in this game she was playing with him? This was an innocent enough of a first step.

Before she could make up her mind about it, her decision was made for her be the arrival of a tall figure in their path. How he got there before them when he had still be sitting at his table when they had left didn't make much sense, but after all, that did seem to a large part of his ability to frighten people. He did plenty beyond the feasible line.

"Good morning Thorpe . . . Thorpe's friend," he greeted smoothly, stepping out from seemingly nowhere and forcing them to stop in their tracks or risk bumping straight into him.

Merissa almost felt like rolling her eyes up at him (and perhaps she would have if he hadn't been quite so tall), however his face was smooth of any emotion except a thin mask of polite indifference.

"Her name is Bach," Merissa snapped as Abby swore quietly under her breath. Merissa wished desperately that her friend hadn't just gotten so pale or her eyes so wide. Wasn't it a reflection of sorts on herself if her friends could barely breathe around him. And she hadn't told Abby anything in weeks - she could only imagine her shock if she realized the depth of danger in this situation.

"Bach," Riddle spoke mildly as if tasting the name on his tongue, "Its a pleasure," he flashed a smile quickly, like the strike of a snake.

Abby, to her credit, winced only slightly and didn't seem to swoon in the slightest as other girls seemed to around him. Her mouth hardened into a thin line as she watched Tom turn his eyes back to Merissa.

"Thorpe, where ever are you going? You'll miss our study hour," he chided her lightly as if they were good friends.

Merissa felt her chin jut out under his gaze. If he was trying to patronize her he was going to have to try a lot harder, "Oh Riddle," she laughed. The sound was off, anyone who knew her well would know, but she made up for it by making it loud, so much so they passerby's looked around in interest. They weren't exactly known for being good mates, "You worry so much," she continued, forcing the same lightless onto her tone, watching with savage pleasure as his jaw tightened ever so slightly, "I would never be late. I'll make it back in plenty of time."

She knew she was antagonizing him, and she didn't have a good reason why. This recklessness was what got her involved in the first place but even with that knowledge she recognized that some small part of her loved the electrified feeling in her skin and the racing of her heart. Perhaps she was just as drawn to danger as Abraxas had always told her she was.

"It's time already," he laughed, as if she had said something quite silly. She frowned and opened her mouth to argue that it was still a quarter till ten but he spoke over her head to her red-headed friend, "My deepest apologies, Bach. We really must begin on our potions work."

He took her arm - not in a way that would have looked anything but proper to an onlooker - but firmly enough to pull her into stride with him as he lead them to the library. Merissa attempted to yank it out his grip but he ignored her, towing her towards the staircase. She had half a mind to force his hands off with magic, though she knew it would cause too much of a stir from the thick crowd of witnesses around them to be worth it. And besides, she calmed herself, if he was going to kill her he would have never taken her with him so conspicuously. Even the hand on her arm, though innocent enough in appearance was attracting attention. He never touched anyone and no one ever touched her.

They were stopped at the base of the stairs, however by a figure in bright, blue quidditch robes and a scowled on her usually pleasant face. Merissa was surprised to see her but even more surprised when Tom actually stopped, and rather abruptly at that. With her broom held against her shoulder and her heavy leather gear bulking out her shoulders, Susan did look rather intimidating, though still Merissa had never seen Tom let his path blocked by anyone, although who would really have the nerve to do so in the first place? Susan, evidently, Merissa thought rather faintly, this morning already too full of surprises for her taste.

"Is there a problem here?" Susan asked firmly, her voice carrying naturally through the crowd and making several heads turn.

The coldness in her tawny eyes made Merissa start. For just a moment, she had forgotten how furious her friend still was at her, how they hadn't spoken except to throw insults back and forth for weeks. All she saw was her best friend, boldly standing in Tom Riddle's path for her. But Merissa's anger at Susan ran deeper than hers with Riddle, something she hadn't realized until now.

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, shouldering past the taller girl. Riddle kept his grasp in her arm as she did so, though now it was more like she was pulling him instead of the other way around. Once they had made it to the less populated hall the lead to the library she began tugging her arm from his grasp once again. More than his grip was uncomfortable - she didn't like how hyperaware she was of his touch.

"Do you mind," she seethed, successfully removing him with a mighty lurch that nearly sent her tumbling forward.

She glared back at him once she had caught herself and straightened her robes, giving him a haugily sniff. This might have offended him on another day but he looked amused instead.

"I was just making sure you would comply," he replied calmly, his long stride catching up to her with ease, "You did just attempt to abandon our meeting."

"Which isn't for hours," she argued pointedly, turning on her heel to face him, "As I've been forced up here now I will spend the time until then in my section of the library and you in yours."

He blinked at her, unimpressed by the way the hostile posture she had taken up to address him, "And why would I agree to that? You're wasting my time. I want this done."

"You'll agree," she growled, taking what she hoped was a menacing step forward, "Because you like me more as a ally than an enemy."

Unfortunately it didn't seem to have the effect she had hoped as he regarded her with only slight surprise and not a hint of fear. She couldn't exactly blame him though, she didn't know what exactly he had done that had made her so angry. But she certainly was irritated with him nonetheless.

"That's ridiculous," he told her, the same calm, collected tone held, "I dislike you equally in both roles."

She gave out a loud sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a snarl and turned again, this time marching right into the library, hoping to lose him in the vast, twisting shelves. Reaching her favorite section she snatched a book off of the shelf and evicted a pair of second years from her nook. As her chosen reading material was cracked open with much less care than she usually afforded and the second years had scurried out of sight Merissa settled herself into her chair.

And then came the worst part, because with no second years to abuse or books to fling open she was left with the consequences of her anger, the worst being facing why exactly she was upset. It wasn't as if she wanted to go watch the Ravenclaw team practice - quite contrary she was glad for such a concrete reason of missing it. She glanced up at the large bay window, just a few tables length away from her seat. Past the cushions that lined the alcove, warped slightly by the wave of the glass and the streaks of ice and water that covered the window she could just make out the tiny blurs of blue that was her house team. There was no longing for the cold, hard benches of the stands, yet she knew she would rather be there than in here. Because what had made her so angry was not because she had been separated from her friends or that he had made her come up here. In fact, she would have ended up in this nook with this book whether or not Tom Riddle had intervened. She was not annoyed at what he did, but rather how he did it. His cool shell of calm had been strengthened tenfold by their treaty and what was worse was how out of control it made her feel. He was just a powerful as her (maybe more, not that she really cared to test it) but instead of having such finicky and unpredictable magic his was steady and cold as the downpour beyond the castle walls. When they had been at odds at least she could get a reaction from him, a flare of temper, anything, but now in order to elicit any response she had to act rashly, foolishly even. She didn't want to die, that much was always ingrained deeply within her. But when such control and focus was needed at all times it didn't feel much like living either.

Letting out a long breath she did the only thing she knew would make her feel like herself; she flipped her legs around the arm of the chair and reclined her head back on the other, lifting her book up to read suspended above her head. And when her arms grew tired of this position she levitated the book above her with one hand, the other flicking the pages from far below. This trick used to take more concentration than it was worth, but now she could do with without thinking. She reminded herself of this over and over. Anything became easy with enough practice.

/_\

One hour and forty-five minutes. That's exactly how long Tom Riddle gave her by herself before he came into her row of the library. It was simple for him to find now, having spent so much time staking it out, trying to guess what she was up to. Up against the back wall it was a quiet place, a heavy shelf on one side and a large window overlooking the grounds on the other. There were similar places along the vast wall and couples often went into the corner against the windows if they were looking for a private place to snog, however Merissa seemed more interested in the half circle chair with low arms that she liked to lounge across. Tom supposed it did show her off in a rather advantageous position with her hair spilling over the arm and her legs crossed hanging off the edge, though he wasn't sure if that was why she did it. Her intentions were never clear to him.

As he approached her icy eyes flashed up at him momentarily before returning to her book with a pointed expression. She was ignoring him, apparently.

Taking no mind to her snub he pulled an armchair from beside her to the table they had worked at before and began settling out his things along it meticulously. It was important to him that the ink be here on the right side with the quill right underneath. The parchment with the copied foreign script on his left and right in the middle, the separate piece that had their work so far.

"It's not time yet," her voice came from behind him and he turned to her.

Her eyes were still glued to the book she had hovering above her head, a feat he had not failed to be impressed by, inwardly at least. She hadn't moved an inch and he might have guessed that she had not said anything at all except for the faint lines of a frown threatening to form on her face.

"Fifteen minutes until," he replied impassively and took his seat, no intention of allowing her to waste anymore time, "I've been plenty generous."

"I disagree," she retorted, a full fledged scowl in place now but her eyes still refusing to acknowledge him. Tom could have almost laugh - as it that was surprising at all. She seemed to disagree with him on mere principal, "Like you've said I still have a few minutes to myself and I intend to use them."

He stared at her for a beat. It was still a forgein offense to him, someone not doing as he said and it managed to take him off guard still on occasion.

"Very well," he agreed coolly. Merissa's brow managed to make it half way up her forehead in surprise before she realized her book was shooting away from her and into his hand. Letting out a soft hiss she righted herself in her seat and attempted to snatch it back. It evaded her grasp and landed lightly in Tom's outstretched hand.

With a swift snap he closed it, her spot now hopelessly lost and tossed it onto the table. Merissa had already started up and for a moment he thought she might be coming to hex him but she stalked past, picking up her kidnapped book and placed it back on the shelf with less care than she usually afforded it. She then summoned her chair from the corner and took a seat at the very edge of the table, as far away from him as she could.

"You are an arse," she told him factually, snatching up the paper that contained the copied test from the journal, "And I hope to get this done as quickly as possible so that I might be spared from your presence."

Tom's fist tightened under the table. He swore that sometimes he could actually hear his blood boiling in his veins when she was around him. Not only was he the best student Hogwarts had ever seen and the Heir to Slytherin, but most importantly he could kill her and she often seemed to forget this. It would be incredibly wasteful, to spill such pure magical blood but if it was necessary he swore he wouldn't hesitate. She was too fond of power games that only he was allowed to win.

"Let's be on it then," he agreed waspishly, "What's the first word? We let off just below-"

"Yes I see it," she interrupted. He was about to retort back, however when he looked at her expression he saw she was already deep in thought, reading. It calmed him to see that at the very least she did take this project seriously. Her thirst for knowledge ran almost as deep as his and the similarity made it impossible to fault her in her zealousness at this at the very least. Though he was sure to fault her for most anything else.

"This is talking about a hall, or more like a passage of sorts," she told him, indicating the spot with her finger before sliding the parchment back over. He took it into his own hands and considered the passage. For what felt like the hundredth time he chided himself for not learning this language sooner before savagely reminding himself that he couldn't be blamed that he had grown up without the advantages his peers had. He would blamed everyone: the muggles, his foolish mother, his filthy muggle (and fortunately dead) father, even Merissa herself before he would blame himself.

But for now at least, it was easy to take the parchment from her and carefully copy the words she had indicated as well as the Parseltongue around it onto the second sheet. She scooted closer absent-mindedly and accepted the parchment as he handed it back to her. Considering it for a moment she chewed on her lip before speaking, "This section mixes the symbols in words instead of just every other word being one or another. It's going to be more difficult."

"You write down the nearest equivalent and I'll do the same," he instructed, pulling out a third scroll.

She nodded and they both began adding the symbols onto the page, soon developing into near perfect English words, nearing sentences after a few minutes of silent collaboration. Merissa began grinning as she too saw the pattern and they work became faster still. Sometimes, things were very easy between them.

/_\

Several hours later, Merissa was becoming quite drowsy. Working with Riddle was becoming easier as the day went on, but the passage they were working on had Akkadian sprinkled throughout, and she hadn't used it in years. Her eyes strained over his less than perfect transcription but she knew better than to complain. The storm outside had died down to a light trickle of rain that bounced off the glass, making a quiet symphony of soft tinkling that seemed to lull her to sleep. The sun had not made an appearance today but she could tell by the light that it was long gone behind the mountains and now even the moon was cloaked and hazy, providing no light for the ground below. The lamps were the only consistent source of illumination, tended frequently by either the librarian or house elves. But even oil ran low during these times of scarcity and Merissa could swear that the lamps burned dimmer for it.

"That's," she stifled a large yawn, "That's 'stone' or 'solidify'."

"Which is it?" he frowned down at the paper he was copying down her dictation on, "You're getting sloopy."

Usually she would have been offended by this, maybe even hexed him for good measure, however right now in the dim corner of the library with the soft sound of rain outside she couldn't muster up much indignation.

"Shut up Riddle," she sighed, stretching her arms out over the back of her chair. As she lowered them back down, her hand brushed his shoulder. He jumped and brushed the spot off as if she had filthied the corner of his robe.

"You can't touch me," he snapped crossly.

She was tired enough to find this amusing so she let out a soft chuckle, resting her body back into the curve of her chair, "You touch me all the time on accident during potions. Imagine if I jumped away like that every time."

"I can touch you," he agreed, nodding to himself, as if this made perfect sense.

"How reasonable," she snorted, "You do realize that's the same thing?"

"I disagree," he glanced nervously down at her hand, which was resting innocently on her lap now, "I've never burnt you before."

She laughed with real humor this time, shaking her small frame and making him stare, "You're still scared of me? That's flattering."

And it was. She was used to being able to command a certain fear from Mulciber and Travers when she wanted to but there was something entirely different about receiving the same consideration from Tom Riddle. He was a worthy opponent, even if was one she would rather not have.

Even as she told herself this she couldn't completely agree one way or the other. Worrying so often had put a strain on herself this year but a small part of her was glad for it. If none of this had happened it would be the dullest year of all, nothing but exchanging a few hexes with Hornby in the halls and sneaking into the Slytherin common room for parties. Her past nannies had often lamented on how difficult she was to occupy as a child and maybe that was still true now. This year had been anything but uninteresting, to say the least. Perhaps this game wasn't all bad to play, as long as it didn't get her killed.

Tom continued to stare as if audience to her thoughts before stating, "You're mad."

"Most likely," she agreed amiably, stretching her legs across the chair. A part of her watched him though, concerned he might have actually been eavesdropping on her thoughts. She thought surely she would have felt it, but she never knew with him and she defeinetly wouldn't put it past him. She shrugged, hoping to give off an air of pure nonchalance in case he has, "I'd rather be that than a probable sociopath though."

If he had been listening he also played it off well, beginning to pack up his things without giving her a second glance, apparently not finding her comment worthy of s reponse. They hadn't finished but she supposed he was unwilling to sacrifice the quality of her interpretations to complete their project today. She couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of disappointment that she swore had everything to do with her interest in the passage and nothing to do with his company.

She leaned back again, watching as he put the papers delicately back into his bag, "I am done for today," he informed her, finally looking up.

She nodded, getting to her feet. Her bag was on her shoulder and Merissa herself was quite set on leaving without another word. He looked annoyed that she was ignoring him so he said rather loudly, "Next Saturday then?"

Even though she knew she couldn't, her back only half towards him, Merissa could have broken out into the widest grin at his demand. He was playing right into her plan, like she knew he would.

"We have a Hogsmeade trip next Saturday," she complained, turning back around to show him a simper she had arranged on her face. He didn't look moved.

"And?"

"And I'm going, as a socially functional person," she explained, as if she thought he was mad for not understanding, although she knew he wouldn't. Riddle had only this year began participating in social events and Merissa was absolutely sure it was only because it was a convenient time to meet with his cronies and to spy on her.

"Hardly," he remarked cooly, "Go and have fun though, I understand how tiring this must be for you."

He was mocking her, she knew, but more importantly he was nearly slipping out of it. She had beat that he would have been more insisted that they finish. She had counted on it.

Misunderstanding her stricken expression, he was looking pleased with himself, picking up his bag when she retorted quickly, "It isn't. But I know doing something so normal would be for you."

 _Oh for the love of Merlin please don't just agree with me_ she silently willed. Coming up with something else would not only be inconvenient but with how much they had gotten done today she knew they would only need to meet a few more weekends. Her time was limited.

"I'll meet you there then," he snapped, standing up and looming over her. She blinked, her eyes at his jaw level, surprised by his sudden proximity. He was taking her bait, but she was suddenly flustered.

"Where?" she managed to ask. Her voice didn't sound shaky and she was incredibly grateful for that, but she could swear that from this distannce he might be able to hear the hammering of her heart.

"The three broomsticks," he declared (and she found herself again relieved and not only because he had taken a step back and she could think again), "Although I can't promise theatrics like last time you were there."

"Good," she grinned, her normal bravado back in place now that the room seemed to have gained air again, "You really shouldn't let me con you into things like that though Riddle."

"You overestimate your persuasiveness Thorpe. Good evening."

Merissa had to bit her cheek to keep from smiling as he left. He was the one who shouldn't underestimate her.


	25. Turning Tables

**ITS BEEN YEARS. I mean, not really, but it has been a long time and I am very sorry about that. My summer jobs were finishing up and I'm just working one now instead of three so hopefully, hopefully I will not be terrible at updating anymore. I missed this story so much and I am probably more excited that ya'll to be updating lol so I suppose that's a good sign? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

January 20th, 1943

"You're going to choke to death if you don't slow down, Thorpe," Lestrange snarked, a trademark sneer plastered to his face.

Abraxas scoffed at him from over his own breakfast, evidently feeling more indigination for Merissa than she did for herself. Her eyes remained trained to her parchment, hardly finding his attack worth acknowledgement. Nonetheless, it couldn't be left unpunished.

"Like that would be any tragedy to you," Merissa replied through her large bite of toast without looking up from the essay she was scribbling. If he was wise he would stop there.

"No, but there would be some irony if you died, you know since I was always the one who was punished during dinner parties for table manners," he tried to smirk, but seeing her expression, he looked back to his eggs. Evidently, he was not wise, but a coward still, and she could live with that.

"Oh shut up Lestrange," Nott snapped from around Merissa's elbow. He too was scribbling down on parchment, although his words were more or less hers, copied in these morning sessions as she had made customary the last week. As it turned out, this small favor seemed to have inspired an ally in him as he retorted further, "She's finally starting to look like a person again."

Merissa's urge to smile grew, though she remained impassive in expression.

It was true. After months of looking far too thin, Merissa was beginning to flesh out again. She was still slender, but the jarring sharpness was gone from her features and she was getting color in her cheek again. She wasn't bothered by Lestranges comments though. Rumor was he was currently dating Olive Hornby, which proved to Merissa that he had no taste.

Mulciber must have been feeling brave because he looked up at her when Lestrange no longer had the courage to, "What are you even doing here Thorpe? Your table is down there."

He indicated the table behind them with a crude jerk of his thumb. Merissa put down her quill and met his glare, making him shrink slightly under her gaze. Even without the threat of magic, when straightened up she was taller than him, and that alone seemed to be reason enough to wince back as if she had thrown a hex in his direction. The lot of them did seem to be conditioned by Riddle's tall stature and abundant power that the two correlated, and while she was in no way tall compared to him or Abraxas this rule still seemed to apply to her. Indeed, none of these boys were wise, but fear made them easier to control than she had anticipated. Tom had been given too much credit for his genius, in this at least. Merissa found their respect to be cheap, not a real won allegiance. But then, she did have plans to change that.

"I think I am one of the majority who prefers not to have their breakfast slobbered over," she said, nodding to her table and returning to her breakfast, not finding her attention necessary to address his question, "Though I'm sure you wouldn't mind a show. Do you want my old spot?"

Mulciber quickly averted his eyes after this, clearly regretting sparking her wrath. There was no question among anyone to what she was referring. The indicated mass of dark hair and reaching fingers had once been two students, but since their official beginning of a relationship, Susan and Alphard had not been seen apart, rarely even to take a breath from snogging. It hurt Merissa more than her liked to admit to see her two ex-friends together, yet she attributed this to knowing Alphard was doing it for the wrong reasons. Abraxas gave her very frustrating looks whenever she mentioned it.

"They are disgusting," Abraxas agreed, giving her another look past his toast. She narrowed her eyes at him before returning to her writing. She had no shortage of distractions with her school work and snooping around Riddle. If Abraxas wanted to say something he was going to have to outright say it.

"Not everyone can be as well bred," she sniffed, ripping a hole in her parchment as she crossed a 't', "I can't expect so much from them."

Nott sniggered, earning a cold look from Riddle, who had seemed to be listening despite his best efforts. His eyes had darted up at her last comment, narrowed, as he knew the intention at once. Well bred would always be a double-edged sword with him, of course.

"I would nearly have called you a blood traitor if I didn't know better Thorpe," Riddle dug. Despite their strides forward, they still bickered often, "I don't know how much you can claim to be well-mannered."

"Luckily you do know better then," Merissa smiled saccharinely.

Riddle stared back, the corner of his lips quirked up to what might have passed as an attempted smile had his eyes not still been suspicious slits regarding her.

"Break it up you too," Abraxas muttered, far too quiet for Riddle to hear him (as had been the point), "Are you almost done, Mer?"

She smiled up at Abraxas, innocently displaying her hands were empty of a quill. Riddle also turned away, no longer held by her eyes and continued his conversation with Avery.

"I'm finished, just waiting for our dear friend Nott to get his inspiration from my work," Merissa defended, gesturing to the sandy haired boy as she took another bite of toast.

"Why does he get to?" Rosier whined from a few places down. He too was scribbling his essay down, but had no one's paper to compare to.

Merissa smiled at him though her cheeks were beginning the ache with effort, unaccustomed to so much acting so early in the morning.

She knew how the system worked in Slytherin house. Nott, Avery and a select few other boys of their year shared essays with each other, each taking a turn to supply the group with material. Lately she had been a source for them, making it easy, however the circle was close knit, unlike Rosier's. Rosier, though reasonably bright on his own shared with Lestrange and that was reason enough for her to cut him off indefinitely.

"If I could share with all of you I would," Merissa smiled at him with what she hoped appeared melancholy, "But unfortunately I am a prefect. I can't have my paper circulating loose. I'm sure you understand."

Rosier nodded slowly, obviously disappointed. It didn't appear from his frantic scribblings that his writing was going so well.

Abraxas, who didn't approve of the study ring she was making, cleared his throat and stood up, "I'll walk you to class, Mer. Better finish up by yourself, Nott."

Nott looked horrified, his head snapping up to address Merissa, "I'm awful at conclusions, Thorpe, take pity."

She laughed, "I'll help you in Arthimacy, just take Thomas' regular spot.

His face broke into grateful relief, "Thanks Thorpe, don't know what I would have done without you."

"You're welcome," she smirked, taking her essay back.

She let Abraxas lead her from the Hall and towards Herbology. She knew he had something to say from the moment he offered to walk her to the greenhouses; he despised the cold more than anyone she had ever known, and this winter was certainly just that. The downpour of water in various states of freezing had subsided to a relatively dry period of pure cold. The landscape was still covered in snow but instead of having a fluffy quality it now was as hard as a rock. As they stepped out onto the steps, the newly formed frost crunched lightly under their boots, a trail already well stamped out by the others making their way to class.

"What were you playing at back there?" he demanded once they were outside, the closest students a pair of Hufflepuffs far out of eavesdropping range.

The cold wind bit into her face and she took a moment to adjust her hood. She frowned at them as she decided how to answer his question, their yellow scarves whipped like flags of sunshine in the otherwise gray landscape.

"I'm making myself useful," she finally admitted. It wasn't a lie and it didn't put him at any risk for accidentally revealing her plan to Riddle either.

"Yes," Abraxas agreed staunchly, "However you're one of the most unhelpful people I've ever met, so why?"

"That is so hurtful Ab!" she feigned offense, "I live to make other's live easier."

"You're a hero to us all," he drawled, entirely unconvinced, "So why?"

She shrugged, pulling her scarf up to her chin, "Insurance. In case Riddle decides I'm not useful anymore. If he wants me dead he's going to have to kill me himself, because they won't be willing to once I win them over."

Abraxas stared at her, not with the usual mild surprise that he generally did but in pure disbelief, "You're collecting favors. . .To avoid being murdered?"

She nodded her head in confirmation, "We all have strengths. I'm playing mine. I've terrified Mulciber and Travelers already, but that's how he works, not me. To beat him at his own game, I can't play by his rules."

"And what, pray you, are his rules, in your mind?" Abraxas sighed down at her, "Pure evil?"

She frowned at the Hufflepuff girl ahead of them again as she quipped back, "No, he uses fear. I would be naive to confuse the two. Lestrange will always fear me, but Avery, for example? I don't have enough influence to scare him into respecting me, but I could make him _want_ to respect me, simply because he likes me."

"I don't-"

"Your friends have always liked me, Abraxas," she reminded him, "They are just scared to since I've been at odds with Riddle."

"That's not enough-" Abraxas attempted to argue again.

"Sure," Merissa agreed, predicting his rebuttal, "But its not as if Riddle is very likable. The way he glares at people at breakfast."

"You do that too!" Abraxas cried indignantly, catching the attention of the pair of girls ahead of them, making them glance back in interest.

"Regardless," Merissa shrugged off his accusation easily, "They're going to love me, especially when I throw another party."

Abraxas raised his light eyebrows in a silent and understood question.

She smirked back, happy she had finally caught him off guard for the better, "This Saturday at the three broomsticks. I've already rented it out."

"How?" he asked, grey eyes narrowing, "What did you do to get that building on a Hogsmeade Saturday?"

She held her hands up in a innocent show of ignorance that he didn't buy for a moment.

"I just mentioned your name," she smiled up at him, batting her lashes, "I'm just that adorable."

"No you're not," he deadpanned, "Please tell me none of the bartenders is missing a nose now."

"Don't be ridiculous," she smiled, "I only needed to say your name. . .and mention a few people who might be upset if it didn't happen."

"Was one of the people you?" he asked grimly.

She frowned, "I like to think I'm not that predictable - That's not the point though. I have guests to invite!"

"Between challenging Riddle almost all year and fighting with Susan you are a social leper at the moment," he pointed out, "How are you planning on getting a crowd large enough to fill the entire Three Broomsticks?"

"I am now," she agreed, giving him a hefty wink, "But Saturday is days away, Malfoy."

Just outside the greenhouse now they could see in the glass doors to the class beginning to assemble and the rumble within had begun, telling Merissa that the professor had yet to enter.

Abraxas must have known that his time was limited though if he wanted to make it to his class on time so he muttered rather hurriedly, so that anyone trying to eavesdrop could not, "Fine, then let's make it interesting. Twenty guests by the end of the day, or I get to pick where we summer next year."

"Deal," she agreed evenly, "If I win, I get Kaddy for a month."

"You can't take my house elf, you have your own," he argued in a furious whisper.

"She makes my tea better," Merissa shrugged, "Anyways," she tilted her head away from the greenhouse, her voice low, "I thought I was a social leper. Even I can't charm my way out of that, right?"

"Right," Abraxas frowned, his arms seemed to move themselves by instinct to cross across his chest as he chided her, "You're being reckless, you know."

"Good," Merissa smiled brightly, "See you Ab."

As she entered the greenhouse Merissa was not only hit with the warm smell of dirt or the humid air, but the realization that many of a the yellow clad students had glancing nervously out at them. Most students outside of Slytherin house made no distinction between the level of danger of the individual members of the most infamous group of boys in the school, holding Lestrange to the same standard as mousy Rosier, something that Merissa generally found hilarious. Abraxas, though well respected because of quidditch still made some students jumpy. Unsurprisingly, the more muggle lineage, the more nervous. Now that they were closer Merissa recognized the pair that they had been trailing to be blond twins that Merissa knew nothing about except that they were muggle-born. They were outright glaring at her.

She sniffed at them as she took her usual seat next to Abby. Some people, she supposed, she could cross off of her list at once. But, she reminded herself, she really couldn't let herself be discouraged.

As class was finally called together and they began the normal rattling of trowels and rustling of pages, Merissa took the opportunity to turn to one of her classmates, Elizabeth Springer, a statuesque girl with a long auburn braid, "I do adore those gloves Elizabeth. They're horn-tail, aren't they?"

"They are," the girl replied warmly after just a moment of being taken aback; Merissa didn't blame her, unsure herself when they had last spoken, "I got them from my grandmother for my birthday a few weeks ago. She knows how I like herbology."

"Handsome and functional," Merissa winked. A general hushing came from their professor, eyeing them from the other end of the greenhouse, "We'll talk later," Merissa assured her after covertly rolling her eyes at the professor, making Elizabeth grin, "Happy late birthday."

"Thanks," she smiled back.

Abby gave Merissa an approving nod as she turned back to their fanged geranium, evidently approving of the pleasantries. And Merissa herself felt good. She had forgotten how naturally polite friendliness came to her, and it was a joke even if that was all it took to undermine Tom Riddle.

/_\

"How many?" Abraxas demanded, making Merissa jump as he swooped down on her the moment he made it into the common room. She had been waiting from him in one of the high backed velvet chairs, skimming the Prophet like she usually did, but today instead of respectful nods on his way from dinner he received knowing grins. What had made him nearly sprint to the dungeon was when a red-headed Ravenclaw girl who he was quite sure he had never spoken to before stopped him in the Great Hall and told him how excited she was for next weekend.

"It's not even the end of the day," she complained looking crestfallen as she folded the paper carefully in her lap.

He stared at her in disbelief until her face broke into a mischievous grin, "I have thirty confirmed. Have you seen Walburga's new bag?" she gestured subtly at her brother's fiancee who was across the room, "It's so elegant."

"That is the ugliest bag I've ever seen," Abraxas drawled without hesitation, "And you hate snake skin."

"I know," she smiled, "But she doesn't. After I told her that, just a few minutes ago she offered to bring a few former Slytherin girls. Very pretty lot, of course," she waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively.

"You're unbelievable," he sighed, still staring at Walburga's bag as if he expected it to come back to life. He sank onto the arm of the chair beside her.

"I'm going to be unbelievably happy witch with perfect tea come June," she reminded him, grinning wider and leaning her head against his chest. They were comfortable enough with each other that keeping up appearances was no longer a chore, and it certainly helped sell the appearance. Druella Rosier let out an audible sigh watching them as Merissa shut her eyes and leaned further back into Abraxas. Really, Merissa was carefully orchestrating her position for when she thought Riddle would burst in, and if she was correct that would be any minute now. He could only spend so long in the library and she had been loitering around the common room all afternoon for this.

Predictable as clockwork she heard the grinding of rocks signifying that the door had opened. She kept her eyes closed, though she could hardly hold back a nervous giggle as she heard the tell-tale furious stomping of Tom Riddle as he entered. Her face kept flat, she listened to the angry footsteps continuing and then stopping abruptly. He had spotted her. And excited shiver went up her spine as she heard him round on them, but she could hear the gaggle of girls in the corner still cooing over her and Abraxas softly so she made no motion as if she had heard anything. She couldn't lie to herself anymore and say that she didn't, in some part of her, enjoy the game.

"Thorpe," a voice snarled from behind her. He was closer than she had guessed.

She peered up through her eyelashes, a confused frown constructed on her brow, taking in a furious Riddle coming towards them. With her eyes now open she could appreciate how full the common room was - she had hoped he would confront her about it in front of as many of his followers as possible, and he hadn't disappointed. Abraxas jumped to his feet on instinct as Riddle stalked towards them but Merissa stayed perfectly still on her chair. She knew it would only serve to make him angrier.

"Yes Riddle?" she asked, as several groups looked around. Nothing fasicnicated them more than the illusive Riddle losing his temper, and she had been a catalyst in all too many of his outbursts lately.

"Why am I hearing about a party you're throwing at the three broomsticks this Saturday?" he demanded. His tone was so severe that Malfoy took a large step back.

"I'm sorry, did you want to be invited?" she asked. It was far from a mocking tone and sounded like a genuine invitation to everyone except him. He glowered at her and some of her resolve fell under the intensity of his glare so she said quicker than she might have before, "I just figured you wouldn't be interested but I always have room for -"

"You already invited me," he seethed, moving towards her aggressively, "Just without everyone else being involved."

She tried to look as little as possible, aware everyone was watching now, hiding her utter delite. He was being a monster, just like she knew he would be. There was no doubt that she was the victim in their eyes.

She began again, allowing some of her residue fear to leak into her voice for effect, "I'm sorry if there was some understanding. You would be more than welcome though, despite whatever-"

"I don't want an invitation to some childish excuse to cancel our plans," he hissed, grabbing her arm. She cried out, pretending it hurt and let tears spring to her eyes. It was a show, but it was a good one, so much so that Riddle hadn't noticed yet.

He didn't see everyone's horror at this, but Merissa did. Most people looked scared, everyone looked shocked. Even Avery who knew long before this what Riddle was capable of was staring, eyes hard with warning at his leaders back, unnoticed. She couldn't have hoped for this to go better. She was a hero after all, throwing a party for them out of the goodness of her heart, and now she was being attacked, unprovoked, by him for it.

"Riddle," Nott said quietly, but firmly from the spot he seemed to be rooted to in his chair, a long forgotten game of exploding snap hovering between him and Lestrange, "You're hurting her."

Tom seemed to finally see the faces of everyone surrounding them. He blinked, the black fury leaving his eyes as she saw him put it together. When he looked back at her, his face was unreadable, "My deepest apologies, Miss Thorpe. Thank you Nott, you're right, I forgot myself."

The silence in the room had never been more definitive.

"Malfoy," he said, nodding curtly as if bidding him goodbye after a long conversation.

Abraxas just stared, eyes wide, as he wrapped his arm back around his girlfriend protectively. As Riddle went, Merissa pushed her face into the blond boy's chest, concealing her smile. A part of her was grateful that it was over, because as much as she would have liked to deny it, he still did frighten her. More so though, she was thrilled that it had worked, that at the very least she had one layer of defense against him.

Abraxas' is grip tightened on her as he stood up and lead her out of the room. Several people reached out as they passed to pat her back or say a small word of comfort. Druella even gave her a hug, stroking her hair gently, "Its okay Merissa," she soothed.

Merissa's body convulsed with a laugh, but she stopped herself and made choking sound instead so it seemed like she had sobbed. Abraxas took her back into the nook of his arm, his eyes glossed over, far away in thought as he lead her the rest of the way out of the common room. When they finally made it outside, he let go of her and she followed a rather trance-like version of himself into a far off classroom, closing the door behind them.

He dropped like a stone in water into a desk and after setting a few standard wards around them she perched on the desk beside it, considering his blank expression as he regarded the wall past her.

"You did that on purpose."

She knew he must have meant it to be a question but his voice was flat even as his continued, "You had an existing meetings with him and planned this party anyways, because it would make you look the hero and him the villain."

"Yes," she agreed.

"This way, if he starts threatening you again, there will be no shortage of people to come to your defense. You're making an army," he furthered, still betraying nothing on his face or voice.

"Yes," she said again. She was becoming uneasy. She had already lost Susan and Alphard this year, she did not know how she's handle losing Abraxas, her oldest friend.

"And you do realize manipulating people by the masses is what he does?"

Her mouth hung open a moment at this, before snapping it shut and arguing, "This is completely different! He is forcing me to protect myself."

"I realize your motivations are different," he nodded. He still wasn't looking at her and it made her feel strange, "I just don't want you to lose sight of what you're doing. You hate him because of how he treats people, but you just used his entire house against him. It's not the same, but it's similar."

She pursed her lips as he continued, "I'm not upset with you, and you're still the best person I know, really. Just keep that in mind."

"That's fair," she admitted, "Thank you Ab," she hesitated, her pride preventing her from saying the next words with as much certainty as she meant them in, "Keep me in check."

"That is impossible," he countered, finally smiling, "I tried for four years."

"Still worth a shot," she winked, springing off the desk. She was eager to put such an uncomfortable realization behind her, "Now walk a lady to her room? Who knows who Riddle might have lurking around after that."

Abraxas agreed and took her arm. As they walked through the dimming castel Merissa considered how true that really was. With what had just happened she didn't expect to have an agreement with Riddle anymore, and she told herself protection she could count on was better than a ceasefire with no real parameters. Still, there was no denying the unease she felt knowing Tom Riddle could be behind any pillar or suit of armor, biding his time in any dark corridor. She flexed her hands uncomfortably and turned her eyes back to the torchlit stairs, those the disturbing thoughts followed her all the way to her bedchambers and lingered there like clouds around her all night.

/_\

However, Tom Riddle was nowhere in the halls, behind any suits of armor or pillars, nor was anyone else on his instruction. He was lying on his bed, a pair of golden birds he had conjured looping gracefully around the rich canopy. In the fading light of the setting sun they were barely visible when they brushed against the high ceiling which made them a challenge to direct, which was half of the appeal of having them sore so high. Until the lanterns were lit for the night and let their ethereal glow light the room he had to depend on his connection to his own magic to make them return in orderly circles beside each other. His dorm mates had been blocked out of the room for a while, though he found it probable that they were be downstairs, whispering to each other as most of his house still was. Even being the talented prefect that he was, there were never so many mouths moving about him at once, and certainly never so many of them male.

Merissa Thorpe had ensured both of them a place on people's tongues for the next few weeks.

She had certainly gotten him today, but he was no longer angry about it, in fact he had not been since he had realized the trap she had laid for him. Maybe his classmates weren't familiar with the spark in her expression when something worked out for her, but watching her on potions made it so even the slight glimmer of it had tipped him off tonight, if it had been entirely too late. His calmness stemmed from an epiphany of sorts that left him feeling assured, if not for reasons that only made half sense.

He had realized what had upset him about Thorpe from the beginning. It wasn't that she had challenged him, necessarily, but that she had challenged him when he thought she was so below him.

But she had turned over half his own house against him in a day. She had beaten him in the round of most recent exams, he had found out. She was translating the impossible pages from Slytherin's journal. She had dueled him, and almost won. He couldn't pretend she was leagues below him anymore.

In fact, she was rather magnificent.

And with this, it was difficult for him to be angry that she challenged him, because he could no longer argue it wasn't worth his time. She was a worthy opponent. She had a right to, just as he had a right to destroy her if she got too out of line.

But for the time being, he was only impressed. He could see why she got so much attention. It was not because she sought it out, like he had thought before, but because she was interesting. More interesting than anyone he had ever met.

* * *

 **To my lovely reviewers:**

Ivet **: I'm so glad you're enjoying Merissa as a character! She is certainly flawed but I'm happy you find it to be more realistic. In the last few chapters there definitely been more insight into what Alphard is doing with his spare time now that he's not spending any of it with Merissa (hehehe) and within this chapter the conflict arises even more. It will continue to develop, I promise you that. Susan and Alphard are interesting together because they do have a lot in common. I think of them both as sun type characters (warm, passion, morally upright, etc) and with that and similar interests they are rather compatible, even if they are both being awful as of now. I can't exactly tell you where everything will go, but go it will. Merissa and Alphard however are doomed as a couple just because he holds her to a higher regard than she can provide (if that makes sense). In regards to Tom and Merissa they at an interesting place right now because Merissa thinks all bets are off and Tom isn't sure how to feel about the situation anymore. If he thinks of her as an equal its going to be a lot harder for him to try to kill her again. You've made some predictions throughout your reviews that are absolutely correct and I get so excited when I read them and I hope you continue to. I really appreciate your support throughout this process (:**

SkittleLuvr.x3 **: Thank you for your reviews! Back to back made me feel really special (: hahaha yes it sure did take everything working towards it for a long time for them to work together. They make a powerhouse, though they'd never admit it. I'm so glad that you're enjoying the Tom POV because I love writing it(: I'm always tempted to do more and more but I do want to keep some of his motivations unclear for now so I stop myself. Your praise is so kind though! I do my best (: I'm unbelievably flattered that you would stay up reading this and I hope I can continue to pump out chapters like that. As always, thanks a bunch(:**

CarolinaFlint **: Thank your for your review! I'm glad you liked the sentence I ended on, I'm working on building suspense and am relieved you found it to be actually suspenseful and not tacky. Merissa is certainly growing she still has her doubt sometimes. She still has a long road ahead of her. In regards to the equals idea this chapter is a big bang for that, especially Tom acknowledging it which is a big step for him. Thank you again for reading and giving me such detailed and helpful reviews. I'm grateful to have such a wonderful supporter(:**

elyjayne: **Hello new reviewer! Thank you so much for your enthusiasm in your review haha. Its always a joy to hear you all are enjoying. It was definitely a big chapter for Tom, just as a character even to admit someone else was on his level. I know exactly how you feel lol I'm a huge shipper and it pains me to put them through all this but lots planned for these two. I'm happy that it made a impact on your night. Much appreciation for the words of encouragement.**


	26. Breath before the Plunge

**Heyo! I'm back again and on time? Unbelievable. I got a bunch of feedback from my last chapter and it made the process so much more fun, going through and wondering what all you would think about updates to come. This chapter has a lot of setting up for next chapter which will be huge and the party chapter (because everyone needs one, right?). I look so forward to updating again but until then:**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

January 22nd, 1943

While the rest of her year floundered with classes and the mounting stress of OWLs, Merissa's week had been going too well for her own belief. She had successfully charmed almost all the fifth and sixth years of Slytherin house by this time, which had all kinds of unexpected perks. She was currently squeezed between Druella Rosier and Andrew Nott, Abraxas across from her, having arrived later. He hadn't said anything to her on the subject of Riddle since that night, and she had pushed his words from her mind. Her new found admirers made for plenty of distraction as they seemed to trade her attention between themselves, leaving no room for pensive thoughts. In slightly different circumstances Merissa could envision herself destesting this constant pestering, but given how much she had been left alone lately, she rather enjoyed the heedless chatter.

This morning, Nott was entertaining them with a story the summer before last when a large group of Slytherin's arranged a trip together while their parents convened in Rome. Merissa and Abraxas had been forbade by their parents to join them off the basis of the crowd being too unruly (Merissa in fact vividly remembered her mother muttering about hooligans bringing shame to their pureblood lines while bustling around their hotel room, playing Merissa's keeper, her father already with the other families) and now that Merissa had heard a few stories from that weekend, she thought either Andrew was exagerattingfor effect or that her mother was absolutely right. Either way, it did made for good diversion.

". . .So there she was on the edge of the river, in just her knickers, covered in firewhiskey and screaming about how she would never come to Santorini again," Andrew told them, flourishing his hand dramatically, as Merissa laughed hysterically with Druella, "He yelled back that she was a terrible dancer anyways and that he hated her perfume, throwing her clothes at her. When he tossed her shoes, she lobbed them back, saying they were ruined now anyways from motor oil. The heel caught his leg, and that's why he has that scar there."

"I can't believe they - they - " Merissa interrupted herself with a fresh round of giggles when she saw Andrew's grin, "Got together after that," she managed to wheeze before laughing again.

"Oh, here t-they come," Druella whispered, looking elated as Horny and Lestrange entered the hall, holding hands.

"S-s-shush," Merissa managed to gasp, looking serious as she could with tears streaming down her face.

Andrew looked at her for a moment, before they both broke into a fresh round of snickers. The couple glared down at them, Hornby huffing and flicking her blond ponytail like a weapon, succeeding only in whacking her best friend, Marianna Prewett across the face. Merissa grinned further at the scene, ignoring Abraxas, who from across the table was reading the Prophet and clearing his throat rather loudly. She was creating quite the ruckus for this early in the morning, and apparently Abraxas wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Merissa," called a familiar voice from down the table.

She rolled her eyes before acknowledging it, making Andrew chuckle again and then turned to her brother, who had spoken, "What Joseph? Is there a decibel limit for meals now?"

Joseph had not inherited their mother's eyes, so he couldn't give quite the same icy stare, but he was certainly still trying, "I want to talk to you after breakfast. Make sure you eat something."

Walburga was giving him a pout, but Joseph rarely paid his fiancee much attention when it wasn't obligated and missed it entirely. Evidently, she felt he was being too harsh on his little sister, and more importantly, on her new friend.

 _Bore_ Merissa mouthed to Druella, making her grin. Merissa found her new friends were very easy to please, especially when compared with Susan, who was still acting like she didn't exist. Just yesterday Susan had run straight into Merissa on the stairs to their dormitory, only to give Mary Longbottom a puzzled shrug and sneer, "Strange, it's as if I hit something of substance."

Long after their snickers had faded down into the common room Merissa had been pacing the dormitory, bubbling with anger. In the end, it was Mary's sheets that were dusted with Ive's Itching Powder and Merissa reveled in watching the girl scratch her hives from across the Great Hall, if only because she knew her own sheets were protected with every magical protection she could give them.

All Susan and Mary could do was glare at her this morning, and they knew it. Beside them, being largely ignored it seemed, Alphard was picking at his breakfast and throwing wuthering looks in her direction as well, although Merissa could have sworn that they were directed at Andrew and not herself. It wasn't as if Alphard had been giving her any reason to laugh lately though, so she flicked her hair back haughtily when he looked at her, before engaging in conversation with Andrew again.

"Tell me about that incident with the thestral again?" she begged, beaming up at him.

He looked elated at her interest, turning his entire body towards her, his breakfast long forgotten, "Well you have to remember it was a hot July . . ."

Her breakfast long extended by Andrew's chatter and her plate cleaned, Merissa found herself with no excuses to avoid Joseph anymore, especially with him waiting expectantly for her from a few spaces down. When she attempted to coax a long story out of Druella as well, her brother grew impatient and all but towed her from the table.

"How rude-" she snapped as he took her shoulder into his grasp. He appeared incredibly bored as he continued to tug her up though so she said hastily, "You really must tell me more later than Druella, I love hearing - hey!" she snapped at Joseph and he tugged her harder.

Joseph, ever impassive when dealing with her, kept them both moving, predictable and boring as a the slide of a glacier over land. Her annoyance mounting, she stomped on his foot, allowing her to free her arm and walk the rest of the way out of the hall with slightly more dignity. He wasn't moved by this either, simply moving to walk closely behind her. She wondered sometimes if she could ever catch him off guard.

"I've heard about the little party you're throwing," he said once they had reached the relative quiet of the corridor outside the hall, still just behind her.

Merissa had intended to evade him longer, thoroughly annoyed by his abduction, however his choice of topic made her hesitate.

"And?" she demanded, turning on her heel to face him, "It's not a crime, is it?" she narrowed her eyes at him, "You didn't want an invitation to your ickle sister's party, did you?" she mocked.

"No," he snapped, his nose raising slightly as if to prove how above the idea he was, "Although I'm understanding I will be going anyways, since Walburga is so fond of you suddenly," he gave her a pointed look with she answered by jutting out her chin, "My point is, you're starting to act like you did last year, and don't think I've had as much discretion as Abraxas has allowed you to mother and father."

She scoffed at the age-old threat.

"Unlikely, since I haven't gotten any howlers," she retorted, putting her hands on her hips.

She didn't appreciate him trying to crush her good mood, especially if it were for something as petty as not liking how she had be-friended Walburga. Hadn't he been begging her to do just that for years? It wasn't as if he knew she had done with with ulterior motives, but then, she thought, maybe he did know just that. She was never any good at tricking him.

"They've been a bit busy to write, however come Easter break I'm sure they will express their displeasure in person. You've used up all of mother's patience, sister," he spat the last word, as it was an insult to both of them.

"Thanks for the heads up," she muttered, pushing past him. It was clear to her that it was no longer and empty threat, but instead one that had been carried out, but she she decided to worry later.

She was simply angry at the moment.

Returning to the hall to fetch her bag before classes began, she hustled through her peers, many of which were already moving toward the door she had just come through. Muttering profanities quietly to herself she pushed through, feeling like a fish swimming upstream. She reached the Slytherin table at last only to find that her bag was nowhere to be seen.

"Son of a banshee," she hissed, her eyes frantically running up and down the benches. Her bag simply wasn't there. Another low mutter escaped her lips and she kicked the leg in annoyance, only injuring her toe in the process. Allowing herself to be caught up in the wave of students moving to the door she scanned for Susan or Mary instead. Certainly this would be their idea of payback, weak as it might be. Her mind buzzing with possible hiding spots, she suddenly found that she was looking right at her bag.

"Hilarious, is this your idea of a joke?" she growled, snatching it out of the boys hands before realizing it wasn't a random peer who had picked up her bag for her.

Merissa was suddenly very aware that she hadn't been this close to Alphard Black since he had kissed her outside the Ravenclaw common room just a month ago. Refusing to take a step back she simply slipped her bag over her shoulder and waited for him to respond. He seemed to be struggling with words, a stricken expression on his face.

"Well Black?" she finally demanded.

The silence between them was deafening.

"No, Re I - are you - with Joseph I mean-" he finally managed, but before he could say a full thought, his stutterings were cut off by the appearance of a tall, bronze girl wrapping an arm around him.

"Why are you talking to her Al?" Susan asked, regarding Merissa with disgust.

"I'm sure it was an honest mistake," Merissa snapped when Alphard said nothing again, "He knows better, since you're his jailor now."

Alphard winced as if he had been stung by this comment, but Susan stayed steady, "Must have been."

Merissa knew why her eyes flashed to Alphard expectantly, and for a brief moment she really believed he might stick up for her, or even himself, yet in the same beat she recognized it was nothing more than a hope. He said nothing.

Merissa's jaw set and she swore she felt like she might never be able to smile again.

"Who would want a perfect prefect around," Alphard agreed finally, making his old term of endearment as an insult.

"Yeah, who would care about me," Merissa snapped, not allowing the hurt to reach her tone as she turned on her heel and strutted away. How silly she felt now that she thought silence was the worst he could do to her.

When she had reached Artichmacy, she found her regular seat still empty, but flanked by Nott and Thomas. She lowered herself into it grimly, suddenly wishing she could be alone this class instead. Somehow she doubted either of their company would really be able to distract her.

"Hey Thorpe," they greeted, in near unison. She gave them a weak smile as she dug through her bag, pulling out on of the dark notebooks from Abraxas' crazy aunt and slipped Andrew the essay he had waited for. The rest of the class she scratched down phrases Professor Shacklebolt was saying without absorbing anything.

It had been a rather awful morning. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that her parents knew, as she had been warned they would in the beginning of the year. She had clung to the hope that maybe somehow they might be distracted by work or by the news of Abraxas' Christmas present - it seemed this had been in vain. It was unclear what her punishment would be, though she was sure it would far outshine the crime.

At the very least she could laugh and think that if they knew even half of what she had been doing this year, she would be moved permanently to a rehabilitation center. _Ladies don't play power games with the Heir of Slytherin_ she thought, smiling slightly.

To her surprise however, Riddle had stayed away from her this week. If anything, she expected him to be at her throat again after she had played him so openly, but other than noticing him watching her, he didn't seem to be paying her any mind. She had decided he was probably biding his time or hatching a scheme and Abraxas had agreed. Though right now, Riddle looked incredibly innocent, she noticed. Even as she watched him avidly, his focus seemed to be entirely on the lesson, no flicker of his eyes towards her. He was sitting in his normal spot across the room from her, writing on a loose piece of parchment, as he always did. One hand steadying the scroll onto his desk and the other carefully constructing his looped letter with an inky colored quill. It irked her to watch; where would he put this paper after? She cringed at the thought of a bag full of loose paper. She was quite the snob when it came to stationary.

"Thorpe, did you catch that last part about druid symbols in Africa?" Andrew asked, making her flinch.

"Yes - I mean no," she looked up at him, standing next to her desk. She was confused by this for a moment before she realized that the class had ended. Nott was slipping her essay back under her notebook as he spoke, his body blocking it from view of Professor Shacklebolt's ever keen eyes. Thomas, thankfully, was so engaged in his zealous completion of his notes that he too was rendered unaware of the transaction. Taking the notebook and hidden essay into her hands she tucked them back into her bag and stood. Her eyes wandered back to Riddle who was tucking his papers back into his bag. If he wasn't such a control freak, she would have been concerned they would get crumpled up. She stared at him with greater intensity as if willing him to be careful.

"You doing alright?" Nott asked, leaning against the desk opposite hers, apparently waiting to walk with her. Even preoccupied as she was, she recognized with slight irritation what was happening here.

"Yes," she said sternly, eager now to get to Care of Magical Creatures. Making it to the hall in record time she started down the stairs. Even in her hurry, she was sure shoulder past Alphard, although he was not really in her way. She left too quickly to see his expression ( _Not that I care_ , she told herself furiously), but even through the din she swore the exhausted sigh was from him.

Eager to escape to the grounds, Merissa noticed that although her hand was against the mighty oak door, her magic was what pushed it open, releasing her into the wintry it was still freezing outside, the cold air was welcomed, as her hustle through the castle had left her with a thin layer of sweat across her brow. Part of her wanted to bask in the chill like other would in the warm June sun, but she knew better to be late, especially if her parents were on their last string with her as Joseph had said. As she began to cool, she noticed a pair of Gryffindors whispering as she walked by. Usually, she wouldn't be bothered by this, but it wasn't customary for them to care about Ravenclaw gossip (having so much internal house excitement) and she was unaccustomed to their attention. Part of her thought she must have imagined it, however, a glance behind her shoulder confirmed that they were still looking at her, their heads bowed together as they spoke.

Halfway down to the forest, where class was being held that day, Merissa was still ruminating when Abby joined her. The red headed girl had a strange look on her face and Merissa was about to ask if she had heard anything when Abby started speaking quickly herself.

"Have you seen Edward around Mary lately?" she demanded, still frowning at her feet as she spoke.

"Thomas? Er - no," Merissa replied shortly, taken aback by the girl's intensity.

Abby turned her head up expectantly and it took Merissa a few moments to realize she was waiting for her to elaborate.

"I only really see him during patrols and on occasion in the library," Merissa explained, hoping her answer would satisfy her friend. Abby, usually in good spirits, was grim today.

"And during mealtimes," she sighed, "He's been taking them with Mary an awful lot."

Merissa shook her head, trying to come up with some recollection of this, but could not, "I honestly hadn't noticed," she told her, "I'm sure its nothing."

Abby nodded slightly but Merissa could tell she wasn't convinced. As much as Merissa tried to be understanding, she really couldn't see why Abby, after years of being more or less ignored would still carry a torch, and large one at that for Thomas. No one was worth waiting that long, and certainly not someone who thought _Prefect's Guide to Perfecting Rulekeeping_ was an exhilarating read. Nevertheless, it put an uncomfortable feeling in Merissa's stomach to watch her usually springly friend trudge down through the frost with such defeat. She was glad when they reached the rest of the class and James joined them, making Abby inadvertently break into her usual grin.

From here they had a clear view of the field where the creatures for today's lesson were. The entire class was early, but there was little question why. The unicorns were always a popular and this year there were not only the silvery white adults but several golden yearlings that didn't yet know to fear humans. A large group of girls had congregated around the creatures and were coaxing them forward with various treats taken from breakfast. Their professor, whether because she did not care or because she was half blind from a hippogriff kick to the head, did not mind this and was feeding the largest of all a sugar cube from her hand.

Susan and Mary were some of the only girls not attempting to touch the creatures, electing instead to lean against a large boulder and pretend they were incredibly bored. Upon Merissa's arrival, Mary's eyes widened and she started whispering conspicuously to Susan and the other Gryffindor girl nearby them. Susan was clearly listening closely, but her eyes stayed on Merissa, a wide smirk across her face.

Affording Susan only a brief glare, Merissa turned back to Abby and James, but before she could start a conversation Mary and the Gryffindor girl let out a loud laugh and Susan continued whispering, loud enough to notice but not to make out words.

Closing her eyes in annoyance, Merissa flicked her wrist inadvertently. A loud crack followed by a shriek made them flash back open and Merissa realized with some pride and some concern (as she had not consciously tried to) that she had made the rock the group of girls were leaning against crack down the middle. The rift had not split the stone but it had apparently frightened Mary enough to let out the loud shriek she had heard and dart away from it. Susan was still just beside it, though unlike Mary and the Gryffindor she wasn't looking at the rock in bemusement and horror but right at Merissa, accusingly. Apparently, even when they were at odds, she recognized Merissa's work when she saw it.

"Odd," Abby murmured as their professor called the class together, the noise enough for her to remember it was time for class, "I've never seen stone just crack like that."

"Hm," James hummed and Merissa swore out of the corner of her eye that he was looking at her. Even if he wasn't as familiar to her magic as Susan was, he did seem to have keen senses and Merissa wouldn't be surprised if this was one of those times when he just knew.

"We're going to be doing diagrams today, but I thought they still might be useful for drawing," Professor Artemene grumbled, "Groups of four, label the important magic uses and aspects to the unicorns. You have the hour."

As the frantic nods and grabbing of hands to secure places in groups began, Merissa's looked around calmly for another person while folding her legs beneath her to sit in the grass between Abby and James, but she was surprised to find that several other pairs of eyes were on her, flickering away when she looked at them. Unspringsingly, Susan and the four other girls circling her were the ones who's stares lingered the most.

"Who's owl did you steal?" Abby hissed to her; Merissa shrugged.

James didn't seemed surprised by this and again Merissa wondered what he might just know, or he might have overheard. Being so quiet, people seemed to think that he couldn't hear what they said around him and for that he was an untold mine for all gossip, little as he might share it.

"That is five Nigellus," Professor Artemene said, shaking her head, "Move with Thorpe."

If Merissa hadn't been so displeased by this turn of events she might have found the shade of scarlet Susan took amusing. One moment she was whispering and laughing with Mary and three other Gryffindors and the next she appeared as if her head had been replaced by a gaping tomato, her mouth opening and closing silently as it searched for words severe enough to describe her indignation.

"But Professor -" Susan began, but Artemene was not a patient woman - at least not with humans.

"No arguing! You have work to do," she snapped, and her finality was so clear that even Susan did not argue any further.

It was unclear which party was less pleased about this arrangement, but Susan (after much dramatics about moving her bag) took a seat on a smaller rock beside them. Once settled she took on staring at the top of Merissa's head, but she was ignored. Merissa was not about to let an enjoyable lesson like today's go to waste because of Susan's immaturity.

"I'll draw," James offered quietly.

"Here," Abby said, handing him a paper, eyes flitting anxiously between her two friends, "So we have the hairs of course, you know that's my wand core? Anyways, yes, and then we have the blood. . ." she listed, using her fingers to count.

"The crushed horn for potions," Merissa added, not allowing her eyes to move from the slightly misshapen creature being drawn by James. She was flexing her hand in her robe pocket to prevent herself from hexing Susan, who had done nothing but glare down her nose at them so far.

"I see you're not quite popular as usual now that there's word of the changes in your life," Susan's voice cut in, still not contributing, though she certainly could have, "I guess you're not nearly as appealing when your light-hearted and airheaded persona is destroyed."

"I am not going to feign interest in whatever rumor you're spreading, Nigellus," Merissa flashed severely, "That's a nice eye James. Let's not forget their tears are incredible healing properties, according to legend."

Susan huffed loudly and recrossed her long legs, clearly impatient for someone to take her bait. She swished back her waist length hair back, her lip turned upward as she took shallow and quick breaths through her nostrils.

"I suppose queen Re will be legend as well, soon enough," she finally sighed, leaning back, trying to seem nonchalant, "No one wants an real ruler."

"Susan, no one knows or cares what you're talking about," Abby snapped, more harshly than Merissa had ever heard her. Her usually bright brown eyes were simmering with anger and her wand, held tightly at her side looked in danger of being raised.

Inwardly, Merissa hoped Abby would think better than to hex Susan, partly because if anyone was going to, it should be Merissa herself and also because Abby had little prowess in dueling, especially compared to Susan's skill. The fight wouldn't be fair to begin with and no one would want to step in, Merissa least of all. Since her lessons with Alphard had ended, she had regressed into a more or less useless state when it came to directing her magic.

"You don't know," Susan feigned surprise, "Well I suppose I always knew she never valued your friendship like she should, but I never thought she would think so low as to keep things from you."

Abby moved to raise her wand, furious, but Merissa stopped her with a firm hand on her arm, "Better not to. Hopefully, if she's like any other parasite she'll die if we don't feed her attention."

Susan sneered, crossing her arms and swishing her hair back again, resigned to being completely unhelpful for the rest of the class.

"Do you know what Susan was talking about?" Merissa asked James as they began the trek back to the castle. Abby had elected to stay behind and help with the unicorns, probably hoping it would calm her some. She had stayed a red even more vibrant than her hair the entire hour, hardly saying a word more than Susan.

James shrugged in response, though whether it was affirmative or not was unclear. Merissa nodded and they both looked back to their boots, crunching in the muddy slush that made up the trail. A loud scream made Merissa's head jerk up in surprise but she found it was just a girl with bright blonde braids tossing snowballs of wet ice at her friend far ahead of them. The friend ducked down to form her own in retaliation but when she came up she was hit by another and instead of hitting her friend she lobbed the snow towards the castle where it hit the thick wall and broke into pieces again. Laughing, the blonde girl took her friend under her arm, only to have a handful of snow shoved down the back of her sweater. The two chased each other into the castle, the heavy doors cutting off the last of their peals of laughter.

Merissa watched them grimly, thinking only of how much they reminded her of Susan and herself only months ago. James, watching her as usual, interpreted her expression easily.

"Will it ever be like that again?" she asked before she could stop herself. She wasn't sure why she did in the first place. She knew James experienced feelings of sorts that were often true, but she held little stock in divination, as evidenced by her dropping the subject halfway through the first class.

James didn't seem taken aback by her question though and answered in a rather tranquil voice the answer that she already knew, "No."

/_\

Hours later, with classes done and dinner being put off, Merissa had been forcing herself to write her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay about Inferir in her usual corner of the library. Making slow but steady progress was not her usual way of working but if she wanted to achieve an 'O' on her least favorite subject (and she did, more than almost anything because she was sure Tom Riddle would) she knew she had to do perfectly on the written as she saw not other score but a 'T' possible for her practical.

Frowning at a word she didn't like much, she lowered her head to lean against the table as she wrote, her brain bouncing off alternatives to replace the offending diction. Huffing in exasperation as it finally came to her, she sat up again, one hand pushing her hair back and other other furiously scratching away at the parchment again. Without the shield of her hair or the table though, she could see the dark figure out of the corner of her eye again, a constant distraction since he had taken a chair a few rows down from her two hours ago. Refusing to allow her eyes to wander over to him she gazed down at the scroll, her mind irritatingly blank now. He wasn't doing anything wrong or suspicious and that made her even angrier. Seated at a table of his own, he was either working quite diligently or putting on an elaborate show of it. In her perpheries, she could see him dipping his quill in his ink pot, putting it to his parchment and glancing up at the book he was apparently using for reference, over and over again, the only break in the cycle to occasionally turn the page. No longer having the patience to stare at an essay that was not going to be finished tonight, she rolled up her parchment and allowed herself to watch him. Tom Riddle did have a rather distinctive profile - she swore she would recognize it anywhere after all the months of glancing over her shoulder expecting to spot it. Even the way he held himself now, sitting among the normalcy of books he attained a poised sort of elegance that before she thought could only be manufactured from immaculate grooming from a young age. It was easy for her to understand why his lie of being pureblood had held so well, even among the vultures of his house. The skill was so clearly second nature to him, maintaining it even as he was so focused, either on spying on her or his studying, she couldn't tell. His book was propped against a lamp, apparently to make it easier for him to read. Merissa wrestled with herself, half of her soothing her that she had seen him read like this before, but the other half demanding she confront him and tell him he wasn't as sneaky as he thought. The book was angled just right that looking at the page and looking at her would be close enough. Riddle glanced up, having the nerve to raise his eyebrows at her glare and turn back to his reading. He wasn't able to contain all of his smirk however, giving himself away.

She swung her bag onto her shoulder, refusing to play this cat-and-mouse game with him any longer. Strutting over, she used one hand to make a chair zip from across the table to her and the other to lower herself into it, parking herself right across the table from him. Her show of magic seemed to have the intended effect as he appeared rather impressed, setting down his quill.

"Isn't the purpose of having underlings so that they can do your spying for you?" she asked, tapping the book with her index finger.

"Certainly," he agreed, lowering the text onto the table, "I wasn't spying."

"I'm not that simple, Riddle," she told him, snatching the book up, "This is a fourth year spell book. One I'm sure you mastered your first year."

Another smirk was tugging on the corners of his mouth, "You certainly are not simple," he agreed, making her frown, "I was observing."

"Observing what?" she demanded. It was unlike him to have lasted this long on conversation without insulting her, and now he had missed her invitation to do so. She examined his face carefully, but could not find any cause for suspicion. He looked perfectly calm and collected.

"I'm observing you," he repeated, returning to his paper. He had them scattered on the table, making Merissa feel like she might have an aneurysm. She imagined if someone walked by too fast how the all might rustle. One might even fall onto the ground. She couldn't imagine working like this.

"No, you didn't take that opportunity to deny my intelligence," she clarified, feeling like making her repeat herself might be a way of proving this exactly.

"I do not think you are simple, Thorpe," he explained, continuing to write his essay (which she noted looked slightly longer than hers), "That would be simple of _me_."

"Hmph," she grunted, her narrow eyes returning to his mess of papers, "How do you study like that?"

"Easily," he retorted, pulling some papers away from her as if he thought she might try to steal them, which admittedly had been on her mind. Would serve him right for not even having them in an orderly pile.

"It drives me barmy just looking at it," she said, down her nose, "Take this," she fished out one of the empty notebooks she had gotten from Abraxas out of her bag and tossed it at him. It didn't hit him in the face like she had hoped but instead was caught by a surprisingly agile hand.

"What is this?" he asked, turning it over with his long fingers. The book didn't appear dangerous, but he would never put an ambush past anyone, her least of all. The binding was a rich black leather, which he rather liked.

"A notebook," she stated, standing up, "It's how civilized people take notes. You should use it, despite not being one."

To her surprise, he didn't snap any comebacks at her as she swaggered away, only watched her with something that on any other face might have been mistaken for humor, journal still held in his hands.


	27. Plunge

**Hiiii guys. I feel very much like a kid getting caught sneaking in late by their mom when I post an update with this much delay haha. So I am very sorry, I truly do feel bad for making you all wait for so long and am super grateful for the reviews I got during this time anyways (replies at the bottom of this update). Basically I had to get settled back into my school schedule again and it took a lot longer than I thought it would. BUT, Thanksgiving and Christmas break are coming up at those of you who have followed me since the beginning know that I wrote almost everything I've been working off of last year so I have high hopes that much will get done. I will also be updating every two weeks during school, more if I can fit it in. That being said, thanks again for all the support andddd lets do this big ol chapter(:**

 **Enjoy!**

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January 16th, 1943

Since the founding days of Hogwarts, it was customary for houses to sit amongst themselves, which made sense for a number of reasons. Firstly, intrahouse pride flourished at every mealtime and what was supposed to be friendly competition was given a place to grow. Secondly, the tables were arranged in such a way that minimized conflict. Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were opposite each other, buffered by the houses with a milder opinions of each other. Salazar Slytherin, in particular, had been quite adamant about keeping the houses in separate tables, separate classes and separate regions of the castle even, lending the Slytherin quarters their remote dungeon placement.

In accordance to this, if Slytherin had rose from his grave and looked out upon the Great Hall this particular Saturday morning, he would find everything was as it should be. The only students sitting at the Slytherin table were those belonging to the house, many donning green and silver scarves in preparation for the nippy January weather. Likewise, the blue and bronze clad table beside it contained only members of Ravenclaw house. However, anyone who had sat at either table in the past few months knew what an unusual occurrence this was.

Merissa was back at the Ravenclaw table today, and hadn't brought a single Slytherin with her, a miracle which many members of her house had taken a second glance to confirm. Usually, Merissa would have avoided this table at all cost given how regularly Alphard and Susan ate there, but they had been mysteriously brief at meals lately and this morning they were gone before Merissa had even arrived in the Great Hall.

Merissa was grateful for this and she figured it was best for Susan as well; this way Merissa was tempted to blast her eyebrows off. Whatever rumor Susan had been spreading Merissa had purposefully turned a deaf ear to, but the rest of her house seemed to tread more carefully around her of late. It bothered her and was another reason she had been drawn to the Slytherin table. They clearly had heard things as well but instead of making it afraid of her it only increased her popularity. Nearly everyone fifth year and above in Slytherin was attending her party today and those who weren't have groveled for invitations.

Just yesterday, Merissa had her bag manhandled away from her by a fourth year hopeful who had probably wanted to earn her favor by carrying it for her, but hadn't been given a moment to explain by Abraxas, who shouldered them away and snatched her bag back.

"No one likes a pushover, Macmillin," he growled, practically punting the Hufflepuff out of their path. He had muttered about it for the rest of the afternoon but he also didn't let the leather satchel out his sight or off his shoulder, so Merissa couldn't really complain.

The normal excitement the morning before a Hogsmeade trip was heightened further still for those who had received the invitations to the party, the heavy paper tucked safely into warm winter coats. Merissa would have never thought of physical invitations herself but Abraxas had insisted it made it matter more in people's minds - who had one and who didn't - so she had caved. Once they had been sent out, she understood what he meant. This event was not just for image but an essential piece in her plan. As the date drew nearer she found herself agonizing over the details, an attention to detail she never had known she possessed.

She found herself wishing she could be more like her mother - something she knew she had never hoped for until this point and would unlikely ever wish again. Merissa was all too familiar with the frenzy her mother would put the house elves into the days before a party. Merissa had watched her mother from a young age, a perfectly calm eye in the center of a raging storm of arranged flowers and polishing cloths. Her icy eyes surveyed everything, a solid image in her mind coming to life under their watchful gaze. " _If, you're going to host an event, Merissa_ ," she had told her, " _You need to make it a representation of your entire line. You have generations of reputation to uphold, why your great, great grandmother used to hold balls with Merlin himself and you know he wouldn't turn up for just any -_ " at which point Merissa would stop listening and focus instead on the four tiered trays of pastries being levitated up from the kitchen. While she did have a strong sense of pride that included her lineage, Merissa did not see how hosting a party with enchanted peacocks roaming the courtyard would uphold it.

Currently Merissa was lost in thought, this time not debating tablecloths, but rather staring at Riddle's back. He hadn't retaliated at all, and she couldn't figure out why. She had hoped he would so she could milk his peers even more, but she had a completely uneventful week.

The notebook she had given him was being filled in Arithmancy every day. He was coming to her party too, according to Abraxas, who was just as puzzled. A polite nod in the halls was all the interaction with Riddle she received outside of the classroom and inside he remained the picture of a perfect gentleman, speaking only brief pleasantries to her as much as accepted between aqantaincies, despite her slight attempts to ruffle his feathers. Just yesterday their brew had been purposefully botched by Merissa and all he had to say on the matter was that sometimes, mistakes happen. This was too far for Merissa who dragged Abraxas along on a walk around the grounds the evening after with the sole purpose of venting her rage about Riddle's docile attitude.

"Mistakes happen!" she had repeated to Abraxas, flinging a hand out as if to throw the offensive lack of offense to the ground, "Oh, I'll show him a mistake when I poison his pumpkin juice! Who does he think he is, Heir of Slytherin or not."

"He's waiting," Abraxas had predicted grimly, after springing the news of Riddle's voluntary attendance to her party on her, "Acting normal until the next time you meet privately, just kill you or something."

Merissa had laughed this off at the time, but as the days went on, it seemed more and more plausible. She glared deeper at Riddle's back as if it might tell her when he planned to attack, but everything about his posture seemed normal. His back, if anything was very straight at the moment, as he put on the apple butter she usually used onto his toast. Still glaring, she took the preserves from her own table and began dousing her toast in them.

"Re you aren't listening," Abby whined, bringing Merissa's attention back to her own table.

"Yes, I was," Merissa lied quickly, "You were talking about Thomas."

James chuckled quietly, and Merissa flashed him a grin over Abby's head. Some things seemed they would never change not matter how time tried.

Abby's brown eyes narrowed as she gave them both pointed looks, "That was a lucky guess, but yes. He asked me to your party!"

"That's excellent Abby," Merissa said earnestly, beginning to eat her toast. She examined her friends elated expression as she chewed before adding nonchalantly, "He enjoyed himself at Slughorn's party with you, so I'm not too surprised."

"He did?" Abby beamed further, "Thank you Mer, may I'll be confident enough now to avoid putting my foot in my mouth."

Merissa smiled back at her breakfast. He had mentioned it several times during patrols, this being the only time she really listened to him (his teeth were less distracting after dark, when there was less light for them to reflect), she had just forgotten everytime he was out of sight.

"It was a good idea to have your party at the pub, since your usual supplier isn't attending," James noted passing Merissa the kettle before she could ask for it. She accepted it but allowed a barely audible sigh, cocking her eyebrows at him. Sometimes it was easy to forget how easily he would slip in something so seemilying innocent into conversation, especially when it was really a landmine.

"I try to be through," she replied carefully, "And they would both be more than welcome, but as you may recall, Alphard told me he didn't need a pity invite from a bloody fake-"

"Yes," Abby agreed, "We know Re, and we're on your side. We've just been talking -" at this Merissa's eyes flashed, "Oh stop it," Abby sighed, "We've been talking and Susan really needs you, even if she's being terrible. She's going through a hard time with her mom sick again."

Merissa's stomach dropped and then began knotting at this. She began fiddling with the lone sea colored ring on her finger under the table. Her hands would have preferred to begin raking through her hair, but the curls she had set only an hour ago would not last until her party if she abused them in this way. It was no secret that Susan's mother had never been a healthy woman by any stretch of the imagination. Susan's father had been discouraged by his family to marry her in the first place because they didn't think she would be able to provide him with children in her state. Though she had succeeded in giving him Susan, the birth alone nearly killed her and they had never attempted again. She was a sweet mother, which only made it worse when she was ill. Susan didn't handle it well in the best of times; Merissa couldn't imagine what it would be like alone.

"I didn't know," she almost whispered, suddenly not feeling like finishing her breakfast. She put the half eaten piece of toast down gingerly and pushed it around with her untouched eggs, unwilling to acknowledge Abby's pittying stare. Eventually Abraxas slid in between them, a welcome distraction, Merissa thought.

"Not eating before drinking?" was the first thing he said, making her scowl, "That's a quick way to send your dinner back up, I suppose."

"I try," she muttered, pushing her plate away harder than necessary, knocking over a flask of orange juice in the process. She vanished the jug it before it could spill on anyone, but Abraxas raised his eyebrows at her. Rather than answering she stood up, waving a quick goodbye to her friends and began towing him with her down the hall.

"What I need is a drink," she said moodily as they began to walk.

His grey eyes surveyed her from their corners. To her surprise, he discreetly pulled out a silver flask from his robes and handed it to her. She blinked at him before smiling, "I wondered why you never need to drink at parties. Who needs to when you can before."

"Don't be ridiculous, this is for daily use," he scoffed, making her sputter on the strong liquor, "How else do you think I handled with you for four years. You're incredibly tiring to manage, if I haven't ever mentioned."

"This is straight gin," she giggled, handing it back to him, "Who knew you'd like the strong stuff Abraxas."

"You recognize it," he countered, "I always knew you and Alphard were sneaking off to drink together during holiday parties."

She resisted the urge to wince at the mention of his name - she knew it was irrational to let it upset her, so she just nodded, "One can only speak to my aunt sober for so long," she agreed, "Disgusting though, I'll stick to my mead."

"You finished half," he gasped, sloshing the remaining liquid inside at her accusingly, "You didn't like it?"

"I am troubled, and you should take pity on me," she said, waving her hand dismissively as she stepped onto the stone steps leading to the path to Hogsmeade. It was a rare morning, with a sky clearer than glass despite the bitter cold. One could see all the way down to the village from here, the town busy with life despite the weather, or perhaps to spite it.

"Or I should be concerned and force you to have a heart to heart, taking advantage of the fact that you're already buzzed and emotionally vulnerable," he threatened quietly as they began to walk. She wasn't sure if he had meant for her to hear him but she turned, aghast, either way.

"You wouldn't," she hissed, scandalized.

"I would if I thought you needed it," he warned, adjusting his scarf over his chin, "So convince me you're acting like your normal self today, or else."

She chewed on her lip for a few moments, trying to decide what would convince him best, "Would it be helpful or not helpful to my case if I told you I have a plan?"

He narrowed his slate eyes at her, "It depends."

"Well then I do . . . and do not have something planned."

Abraxas only appeared more suspicious but her finally shrugged after several more moments of penetrating staring, "I'd rather have plausible deniability, I suppose. Lets go so you can get your theatrics over with."

"There we go," she smiled, "Thank you, Ab. You get me."

He only sighed loudly and began rubbing the bridge of his nose as they walked, but Merissa didn't mind.

Once they made it into town, they noticed it was a more crowded than usual at this time of day. There was the usual trickle of students weaving in and out of the shops, but whats was less familiar was the addition of several adult witches and wizards who were huddled around the three broomsticks, a seemingly fruitless act as it was closed for their party, several 'reserved' flyers plastered to the windows and front door. Abraxas' eyes widened as he spotted that one of them was polishing a large camera.

"Reporters," he hissed, ducking his head down. Merissa looked wildly up at him as he pulled her hood up around her face hastily, making her hair poke out in strange ways around her face. He continued in a half whisper, turning her away from the wizards, "My father must have made a polarizing decision again. Let's go through the back-"

"Hey that's them!" a blonde woman's shrill cry came, cutting Abraxas' plan off both in instruction and in function. Being anonymous was no longer and option.

Several of the reporters hurried towards them, but Abraxas was an athlete and quicker. He scooped up Merissa, not trusting her to run in her party shoes, and flew past the crowd, beating them to the back alley. Without a moment's hesitation he slipped through the backdoor of the bar, allowing Merissa back onto her feet as he locked it behind them.

They leaned against the wall, gasping for breath and laughing as they saw each other's ridiculous expressions. Many of the staff had glanced at them when they had burst through the door but Abraxas was instantly recognized (especially among some of the younger barmaids who liked to admire his beacon of light hair and refined manners when Merissa and him came here for weekends) so they were left alone. There was plenty happening inside, waiting staff hustling around them, cleaning the dozens of sparkling glasses or moving huge trays of food into the main room. Merissa was mesmerized for a moment, the familiarity of the scene taking her. Abraxas began moving through the kitchen, breaking her trance and she hurried after him. Ducking through the doorway to the main room they were abruptly stopped by the appearance of a man in their path. Merissa immediately decided she didn't like anything about him, from his mirror-like polished shoes to his powder blue suit and especially not his impeccable blue-black hair that contained so much product it looked like it could snap if half if one touched it. Her suspicions were confirmed as he began talking, his voice the most carefully constructed drawl she had ever heard, dripping like molasse in winter.

"Hello Miss Thorpe, Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering if you could give me a few words about your feelings on -" he began, not taking a breath in between his words, before being cut off by Abraxas.

"Neither I or my girlfriend will be making any statements today," Abraxas said sternly. Merissa was surprised when the reporter didn't step back, apparently unphased by Abraxas' tone,, "And as this is a private party, I must ask you to leave."

"A party, eh?" the man tried again, coming closer still to them and making Merissa recoil as he tried to see over their heads, "Lot's of firewhiskey out there, but you are both 15 correct?"

"He will be sixteen in a week," Merissa snapped as Abraxas said over her, "No comment. Please do not make me call security, sir."

The man licked his lips, his eyes glued to Merissa. He clearly was interested in what else she might say without Abraxas' filter, however the majority of the kitchen staff were watching now, making his chances of being thrown out rather high. Merissa watched him weigh his options, his eyes darting between her, Abraxas and the door.

"Very well," the man agreed, eyes still trained to Merissa, who had been pulled protectively to Abraxas' side, "Good day to you both. I'm sure I'll see you both soon. Congratulations!"

Abraxas escorted him out, looming over as if daring him to take more time. The man still didn't seem concerned, watching Merissa even as he was pushed out the door. Sighing, Merissa stretched her arms out above her head, meandering into the larger room. With no more distractions, she was able to at last admire her work - or more accurately - the work of those she hired.

The place was frantic with energy. Trays with beautiful (and Merissa had been assured even more delicious) food were set onto a long table on the edge of the room. Scattered throughout were the more important component - at least to Merissa - dozens of prepared drinks, pretty and brimming with alcohol. They stood out like collections of gems, glistening under the silvery canopy that fluttered without wind. Merissa knew she should just go to the bar and ask for what she really wanted drinks were far too tempting and more importantly they were there. She threw her head back and gulped down the sweet concoction, reveling in the soft glow it gave her mind. She had drained the glass by the time Abraxas returned.

"What is this, Mer?" Abraxas frowned, looking around the room with equal admiration and confusion.

"This," she spoke seriously, pausing to adjust a centerpiece and inch, "Is my immortality. They won't let me die after this."

He stared at her blankly for a few moments, long enough, in fact, for Merissa to be offended of how he was blinking at her like she was an idiot.

"Because they'll like me . . ." she extended slowly, "Because I'm likable. Clearly."

She flashed him a smile hoping to break him from his stupor, but Abraxas just blinked some more before muttering, "Riddle is plenty likable."

"I have trouble thinking of things that I like _less_ than Riddle," she retorted snidely, examining a tray, "Pasty?" she offered. He shook his head at her so she shrugged and popped it into her mouth instead.

"Either way, worst case I have too many friends," she told him, "Cheer up - this is going to be a fantastic party."

/_\

"This party is fantastic," Druella Rosier nearly shouted so her hostess could hear her over the music and laughter, "You're really so fantastic Merissa, I've thought so for years. I've just always been intimidated by you, you know?"

Merissa smiled graciously, "You are too sweet Druella. It means so much to be well regarded by someone of your taste."

Druella looked like she might start tearing up as she hugged her, "Promise we'll catch up again soon? I miss summering with you."

Merissa nodded, squeezing the girls hand as she went to make another round Abraxas at her side. He had maintained a quiet but polite composure throughout the party, though she could tell even he was surprised by how well she was doing, playing the perfect host. Once they left Druella, he leaned over her ear and whispered, "Someone of her taste?"

She grinned and muttered back, "Someone of no taste I meant. But it worked, she hated summering with me, but she forgot that now."

Abraxas shook his head, his sigh lost to the din of the room. As they circled the room, Merissa laughed at passing jokes, received brief embraces from people she had thoroughly oiled earlier and sent dazzling smiles in every direction she could manage. Everything was going splendidly, a few reporters who stayed posted outside making people feel incredibly important as they were ushered in. The food and drinks were delicious, or so Merissa had heard, refusing to take time out of making round to eat, much to Abraxas' disapproval. Even Olive Hornby's attempted to sneak into the party had only added to novelty, Abraxas pulling her out as she yelled like a drunkard at Merissa about no one could throw a real party without her. Evidently, Hornby was the only who thought this as Merissa was told over and over how much people were enjoying themselves.

Despite this, Merissa was all too aware of which guest she was missing. She searched for him constantly, her eyes drifting over the shoulders of those who she was talking to, scanning the room over and over until she swore she would have it etched in her brain for all time. He had to come - she had been so sure when the day began, but with every glance over her shoulder she became less sure. Although she refused to admit this was not the reason she was on her third drink, Abraxas seemed to know better.

"The only two missing off the entire guest list are Riddle and Lestrange," he noted, his tone suggesting offhandedness but his careful expression telling a different story, watching her gulp down another one of the sweet, alcoholic mixtures.

"I'm sure they're just being fashionably late," she said, rolling her eyes, "Probably think they'll leave us wanting more."

Abraxas cleared his throat awkwardly but didn't push the subject further. She wondered how good she was becoming at pretending, if she fooled him at all. It was nearly evening now and before long they would be ushered back to the grounds, ruining any chance she had. Reminding herself that his presence was in no way necessary did nothing to quell her nervousness, even when she considered this might be exactly why he told her he would come.

After a fourth round of the party, it was still growing, crashers becoming more common. Merissa knew she should force them out, but it didn't seem important anymore. Everyone was enjoying themselves - it would be working against herself to create enemies. Abraxas excused himself to go to the loo and Andrew Nott seemed to materialize in front of her as she was alone. Her hand shook slightly as she accepted a drink she knew she shouldn't have from Nott, her nerves finally getting the best of her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he was talking to her, his mouth moving and his face animated, but she couldn't for the life of her concentrate on what he was saying, her eyes flickering to the door behind him. She smiled a nodded, and that seemed to please him enough.

When the door finally opened she swore it would be another crasher, but her heart started pounding when she recognized the dark profile. There was a chance that she said some word of goodbye to Nott before darting past him, but a moment later she had no recollection of it. Riddle had made no move to join the party, and she knew plenty were watching now, seeing how she would treat him after his outburst at her. She swore she would appear nothing but benevolent and hoped desperately she would be able to hear him over the pounding of her blood in her ears.

"Riddle," she greeted loudly, "I'm so glad you made it. Come in, sit, have a drink with me, won't you?"

He at her evenly, although Lestrange looked like he was tempted to run back outside. When he spoke, his voice was blessedly clear over the noise, "It would be a pleasure, Thorpe. Lestrange, go hang up my coat."

He tossed back a large black mass of wool to Lestrange who caught it, looking paler than ever. Rosier was not even a pace away and usually was given such tasks, but lately it seemed Lestrange had fallen far from favor. Merissa hoped deeply with was related to how he quaked around her. Her eyes flickered to the coat, something about it seeming wrong to her. She would have never noticed on him, but it was hardly expensive, even muggle looking. Shaking her head, she looked back at him and found him watching her expectantly. Leading him to the bar felt strange, people parting for the pair like the red sea, but going back to their chatter quickly after. Abraxas emerged from the back and nearly ran to them but Merissa shook her head at him shortly, not wanting to be interrupted.

"I see Lestrange is the underling now," she noted as they finally sat, taking too high bar stools near the end, the quietest place in the loud room.

"Well your boyfriend was off limits," he said. She was surprised he did not sound angry, so she gave herself a moment to think by ordering them drinks from one of the pretty waitresses. While the clink of glass and sloshing of liquid took the place of conversation, he looked around, his expression almost amused at his took in the party. Merissa too gazed around, finding with surprise that hardly anyone was watching them anymore. It was true that Abraxas was off to the side, staring at them with wide eyes, and Lestrange seemed posted to the door, unwilling to venture further into Merissa's event, but nearly everyone else had resumed their conversations, taking up more drinks or were dancing around, carefree.

It had never occured to Merissa how Tom Riddle must seem to them. He was interesting - that much no one could deny - being handsome, talented and charming, and his rivalry with Merissa made him more so, but once one was done holding their breath to see if they would hex each other, he seemed to lose their attention. There were those who doted on him and those who wanted to be like him, but he was so untouchable, already choosing those he associated with, that attention was more willingly given to people who were more willing to interact with them. Merissa knew she too had held this opinion of him not so long ago, though such impassiveness was impossible to imagine anymore.

He was still smirking out into the crowd when their drinks were put down in front of them, "You really outdid yourself Thorpe," he finally said, "What will you give them next?"

"I guess I'll have to start sacrificing virgins like you do to get their attention," she said, recrossing her legs nervously. He was far too calm, "Do you have the paper then? Are we going to work like we planned?"

"You want to translate in the middle of a party?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes," she nodded firmly, "I figure I can work better here than when I'm alone with you, since here you're less likely to kill me."

He laughed, not a cold laugh, but a real, human laugh. Her eyes narrowed. She was twisting her wand in her pocket, and he seemed to notice, smirking at her while he took a sip of the honey colored liquid that had been set down in front of him. She had purposefully ordered him something disgustingly strong, hoping he'd hate it, but his face showed not even the slightest hint of a grimace. She wondered vaguely if he practiced keeping his face so stoic in the mirror or if it occured naturally. He waved over Lestrange who produced Riddle's book bag from inside his cloak. Merissa snatched it from Lestrange, making him jump back in fear before returning to his post at the door without a word.

Merissa was feeling rather smug and self assured by this until she realized Riddle had slipped the papers out of the satchel already, arranging them carefully. She put down the bag, huffing slightly. Taking control didn't seem to be a purposeful action sometimes, just a knee jerk reaction from him. Noticing her apprehensive expression, he handed them to her where they quivered slightly in her grip.

"You look like you could use that drink," he laughed again, "Am I making you nervous?"

"Yes," she snapped disheartenedly, pushing her hand against the counter to stop its trembling, eyes skimming over their progress so far, "Why aren't you angry with me?"

"Is that what makes you nervous. Thorpe? Me _not_ being angry with you?"

He was not mocking her, but asking, watching her with curiosity. The crease between her eyebrows deepened as he took another sip, "Are you drunk or something?" she demanded, "Or is this building about to catch fire?"

"I am offended you think that would make me smile," he told her, before pausing to sip again. He was making quick progress although it was a large cup of bourbon, "Actually slightly flattered really, but also maybe offended."

He sighed impatiently when he saw her eyes went back to the paper, hardly listening, "I guess I will have to be frank with you if I want a conversation. I have been underappreciated of life lately."

"Well I'm sure grandma would settle for a thank you note or something," she deflected, because she had no idea what he could be talking about. Her eyes had stopped halfway down the page, where she had made an error. A significant one.

"All my family is dead, Thorpe," she glanced up finally. His expression was not remorseful, or even factual really. He could have been talking about how he enjoyed the weather.

"Oh," she said, looking down at her drink. She knew very little about him, but she suddenly felt very guilty, despite reason.

"You are feeling sorry for me?" he asked, peering at her face.

"Of course I am," she snapped, tossing back her drink. She felt exposed, the way he was examining her, especially after what she had discovered in the paper. She wanted to leave, get away from his dissecting and her reactions, "Some of us are capable of more than reptile emotional function. Someone had to feel bad about that since you clearly don't."

"You have no idea how funny that is," he said. She glared down at her drink again, finding it completely unappealing now.

"So what is it then?" she asked, swirling her straw and watching the ice spin "The thing you haven't been appreciating?"

"You," he murmured, suddenly very close. She stiffened, looking up and finding his black eyes just inches from hers.

"I don't-" she started, mouth feeling like a desert. If he was trying legilimens on her she had no idea if she'd be any use defending herself, but she swore she felt nothing except the acute awareness of how close he was.

"You are an excellent competitor," he clarified, completely unaffected by their proximity, "I had been treating you like you weren't worthy, but I have a newfound appreciation for how competent you are. This party for example," he gestured around, "You are single handedly creating an army of loyal soldiers out of my company."

"I am," she said, calmer now that he had moved away, "If you came for a confession you can go."

He shook his head, still smiling, "You misunderstand. I no longer want you as an enemy. I want you to join my forces."

She snorted, breaking the trance he was attempting to create. His expression flashed as she laughed, "You want me to join you possess? Please Riddle. How dumb do you think I am."

"Not very," he stated, "Which is why you won't turn this down."

She raised her eyebrows, "Why would I do that then?" she leaned in, knowing it would unnerve him if she was the one closing the distance. His jaw tightened as she looked up at him through her lashes, "Convince me."

"Firstly, you could stop having Black tail me," he tried.

She stared at him blankly, "What are you talking about?"

"Pity, I was hoping you were behind that," he said, looking genuinely disappointed, "Not quite the puppetmaster I thought. But you were trying to find out something when you were tailing me with him."

Merissa cursed herself in about ten different languages. She should have known her ammatuer attempts would never get past him. Going forward she would have to be much more careful.

"I was," she agreed.

"But you did not find what you were looking for," he noted.

She glared at him, "You don't know that. Maybe I did."

"You did not," he assured her and Merissa clenched her teeth together to avoid saying something impulsive, clearing her mind the best she could as Riddle continued talking, "I will give you one question to ask, and I must answer honestly."

She feared her face betrayed the excitement she felt at this. She shook her head at him, forcing her lip up into a sneer, "I would never, especially not for such a pointless reward. You're the biggest liar I've ever known. Your word is empty and your promises mean nothing."

"We'll see," he said softly, "I think you're more tempted that you'd like to admit. I won't lie to you, Thorpe, at least not when I've said I won't."

"That could be a lie," she snapped.

"Maybe," he agreed.

She wanted to saunter off, ignore him and his offer, but he was right. She was tempted. Even without his promised question, how easy would it be to discover his secret if she was in his ranks. She told herself she didn't need to, she knew enough already but she hated any uncertainty, and Riddle would always be just that. Her hand began nervously fiddling with her necklace, without thinking about it. His eyes flashed, and she dropped it quickly.

"Why do you still wear that," he sneered.

"Its a symbol," she said quietly.

"You're a sentimental fool if you think me giving you that was anything more than an attempt to scare you away."

She shook her head, more confident now, "It's a symbol of how you tried to hurt me, but couldn't."

"I could still if you wanted me to," he offered seriously.

She considered him for a moment. He was truly bothered that she hadn't agreed, angry how a boy might be when he was denied a present. Getting his way was all he knew here.

"No," she said standing up, "You can't now."

She swaggered back to her guests, a warm smile perfectly in place. Riddle watched her as he finished his drink, slipping out with Lestrange as soon as he was done.

Meanwhile, Abraxas had been watching Merissa and Tom like a hawk (or rather a petrified owl) and swooped in as soon as she joined the party again. His eyes darted around, following Riddle's retreating form and Merissa as she exchanged pleasantries with various guests, beginning to bid them goodnight as they trickled out, the fading light beckoning them back to the castle.

"We should stop, you should accept whatever offer he just made and we should go on with our lives," he hissed in her ear, "This is getting out of hand. We don't know what he -"

"Stop panicking," she commanded, her voice firm but quiet as she turned to him between guests. She glanced up and waved goodbye to a group of sixth years from her house, "We're going to be fine. I just figured it out."

"Figured - how - what out," he sputtered, "You were over there less than five minutes. What did you figure out that you hadn't during our month of spying?"

"I know where is it," she whispered back, throwing a smile at Abby, who was looking in danger of coming over to see what the matter was.

"What?" he snapped.

"The chamber," she stated, "And we're going to open it before he can."

* * *

 **To my wonderful reviewers:**

Hawknest143: **I am so sorry, I realized I never responded to your review back on chapter 23! I thought about it a lot so I think I was like "I want to give that a careful reponse so I will write it after these ones" and then I missed it entirely so I apologize for that, it was not intentional. I'm so glad you still like the story! I know I've said this a hundred times but it is an amazing experience to write this story and to be able to talk to people about it. Nothing I thought I'd ever be able to do so its a real novel experience for me everytime. I will never stop updating, I swear haha. This is definitely a slow burn, but the tensions are rising. In terms of romance in the typical form, I will say that I have written stuff already with that BUT, huge disclaimer I have the ending already written so I obviously go really out of order. Patience will be rewarded. Thank you again for your review.**

beefsupreme **: She is rather magnificent hahaha. Thank you! I'm really glad you're still enjoying the story. It was a HUGE change from what Tom thought about her in the beginning of the story. He is still a growing boy haha we will see him change all over the place. I appreciate your continued support.**

lotty-x: **Thank you for your review! I hope the story has continued to get better for you, that's my goal of goals I suppose. I am glad you like my portrayal of Tom, he's such an iconic character, I would hate not to do him justice. There's much, much more to come with both of them, I have a lot planned for this story.**

Ivet: **Whenever I get a notification for a new review from you I know its going to be in lovely detail and I adore that. Also so happy you are liking how the story is progressing(: I have this everlasting fear that one chapter it will just flop and I will never hear from you all ever again haha but you always review and it makes me so happy. Abraxas had come a long way from the first few chapters, if someone was to tell me he was going to be one of my favorites when I was first thinking about the story I would have thought they were crazy, but he grew on me as I wrote him and I am glad he grew on you as well as you read. Merissa goes deeper into morally gray area with each chapter and I think Abraxas and readers are the only ones who notice. Tom has got a long way to go but he's on a significant track now, recognizing someone else having worth besides what they can give him. Merissa realizing her life will never be the same is a big point, I'm happy you noted it. She is such a stubborn character that her fate was sealed the moment she become involved with Tom because she was never going to quit until she got answers, but she hadn't realized the ramifications of that before this point. James never seems to be wrong either. Tom POV and parts are my favorite as well even though they are rough on me sometimes, getting it right. There will be more development with the journal, as I am sure you suspected, but I'm not going to say what just yet. Maybe not what you expect ;) Thank you always for taking the time to make such detailed reviews.**

M1STERY: **Thank you for your review! It's so nice to hear that people like reading what I create, still kind of crazy for me, I've never shared my writing before. I do love writing dialogue but really glad the pacing is enjoyable, that's something I have more trouble with. Tom and Merissa are such a duo, I know that sounds cliche, but when I'm writing its so easy to imagine them squabbling. Its always been important for me to write strong but believably flawed females, so I'm flattered you like Merissa's development. I don't want to tell you too much about how Merissa could change or keep the story the same but I will say she's a catalyst for plenty in this story and I have a lot written and planned for her. I hope you continue to enjoy updates!**

EvilDreams: **Thank you for your review! When I first saw it, I was at work and I read it and was like "Okay a nice, new review, you HAVE to write when you get home tonight", and I did so thank you for giving me that push (: I will try to update regularly to not keep you waiting too much. I appreciate you taking the time to read and review, really does mean a ton to me.**

SkittleLuvr.x3: **Thank you for another review! I'm happy you're still liking this story. What Susan is spreading about Merissa is a mystery that I didn't reveal this chapter - sorry! Though I can say you will know exactly what it was all about the first paragraph of the next chapter haha. The wait won't be as long as some have been throughout this story. I was actually working on when she speaks to her parents a few days ago, no spoilers on timing that one though(; I'll just leave it at they are very upset. Thanks again for your review!**

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We have now made it about halfway through fifth year, how crazy is that! A bit of a cliffhanger on this chapter, I know, but I'm pure evil so what else could you expect haha. Next chapter will make a lot more clear, I promise. In the meantime, please PM or review with your thoughts, I always love reading predictions or just commentary. This story and all of you mean a ton to me, this story is one of the only fun things I have time for during the school year and it makes me very happy to interact with all of you. Thanks to all!


	28. The Girl on the Cover

**Hello again! I'm on time? Its a miracle? I'm not sure how many of you read the review responses at the bottoms (I will be responding to reviews in the next update as usual) buttt just in case some of you did with the last chapter, I said in one of them that we find out what Susan has been whispering about Merissa these last few chapters in the first paragraph of this chapter. After a little bit of remodeling, that isn't true anymore, but you will find the part I was talking about after my first little break thing (/_\\), I just didn't want to confuse anyone. I've been having a lot of fun writing some new content lately so I am really excited about the next few updates. I think what a lot of your reviews have been mentioning is going to be fulfilled in them so hopefully you have fun reading them, because I know I had fun writing them. Of course you know that I'm going to tell you to:**

 **ENJOY!**

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January 17th, 1943

" _Lumos_."

Tom surveyed the room around him with nothing short of boredom. The second floor girl's bathroom looked as it always did in the morning, the walls tinged gray in the cold winter light, windows frosted over and collecting condensation on the inside, dripping down the glass periodically and the most consistent of all factors, it was completely empty. The thrill he had gotten the first time he had entered the place, sure he had finally gotten it right had faded until all that was left was contempt. It was a prison he chained himself in nearly every morning now, a physical reminder of his failure. He, Tom Riddle, for the first time in his life, had been wrong about something.

None of it made a bit of sense. He had done everything he was supposed to. After his expeditions last summer and the subsequent creation of his proudest achievement, the fragment on himself safely tucked away in his family ring, he had been lead by some unknown, mighty force. It spoke to him sometimes and whispered terrible, wonderful things in his ears. Leading him to the journal, teaching him to open it, even indicating which pages needed to be translated right away. He had found Thorpe, had her translate for him and when the pages had been completed, nothing changed. It didn't have specific instructions - it didn't have anything he didn't already know. Day by day he became more uneasy with himself, coming back to this lavatory obsessively, but the tiled walls and porcelain sinks gave him no more answers than they had the first day.

Tom glowered at the facets, glinting in the growing light streaming in from the window. Soon, he would be forced to leave again, paranoia keeping him from this place again until the next nightfall. Anything more would be reckless, though the place stayed in his mind at all times, teasing him with its strange, pulsating energy. It was lost to him how he never noticed it before.

So many things seemed to have been obscured to him by his obsession. Thorpe for one, he had vastly underestimated. Last nights proposition had left her shaken - he could tell that much easily and he was unconcerned that she would come around. Power drew everyone, it was the very nature of it.

And perhaps the most fascinating distraction he had found to his pondering was guessing what ambitions might emerge once she felt powerful.

He had already assured himself he would not have to wait long to find out.

/_\

The headline read bold across the front page of the Daily Prophet as it was dropped in front of Merissa the next morning. Blearily eyes squinted at it, trying to make sense of what she was seeing through a pounding hangover. Even after falling straight to bed after her party she hadn't slept it off, and apparently was doing worse than she thought, because she swore the page she was looking at had her face smiling back at her on it. Murmuring whispers began around her and she squinted harder, still not believing what her eyes were showing her. James snatched it up before she could be sure, but his expression told her all she needed to know. Blinking around she met several pairs of eyes on her, including Mary, appearing more haughty than ever. Susan had yet to arrive in the hall, but Merissa no longer needed to wonder what she was whispering about her.

"I don't . . ." Abby began at a near whisper, but Merissa shook her.

" _Thorpe for Minister,_ " James read aloud, as if saying the words would make more sense. He glanced up at Merissa who merely gave a defeated sigh, before resting her head on the table to listen, so he continued, " _Gregor Thorpe, the most popular candidate before even announcing he would be running has confirmed rumors that he will be trying for the position of Minister of Magic this coming fall. Thorpe, 53, has been the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for 26 years and is considered quite the family man"-_ Merissa interrupted him with a loud snort which he nodded understandingly at - " _-recently celebrating his 30 year anniversary with his wife, Rosalynn. His two children, Joseph and Merissa_ -"

"Oh you're on the front page, Mer?" Abby snatched it up and began reading, ". . . _Attend Hogwarts. Joseph is a seventh year and Head Boy, while Merissa is a fifth year and long time sweetheart of Abraxas Malfoy, son of the famous Head Warlock of Wizengamot, Willen Malfoy. Many attribute the success of his children to his and his wife's dedication to family, which they hope he will take in leading the ministry_ -"

"They're talking like he's already won," Merissa said, angrily snatching back her paper, "He's just announced he's running. Which he failed to announce to me."

"I'm sorry, Re," Abby sighed, "I know how frustrating that must be. You'll be getting a lot of unwanted attention now. Although, there is a bright side," Merissa raised her eyebrows at her, her cheek still pressed against the table in defeat, "You know what Susan's been saying!" Abby reminded her, "She must have heard from her father and spread it around. . . It's not a bad thing, really . . ."

She trailed off as Merissa shook her head, standing up, "I need to talk to Abraxas."

Luckily, the Slytherin table was just a few feet away. She nudged Nott out of her way as she sat down, smacking the paper down in front of her boyfriend, who was nodding off into his porridge. Last night, after Tom had left the party, Abraxas had needed a fair amount of alcohol to calm him down enough to go back to his dormitory. His eyes snapped open, and he looked around dazed at the noise, cursing under his breath when he found Merissa inches from him, brandishing a paper in his face.

"Have you seen this?" she demanded before he could gather his bearings. He squinted at the print, much like she had, though she guessed his trouble reading it had more to do with a hangover than disbelief.

"Merlin," he whispered, finally able to make out the headline and taking the paper into his hands. "Did you know?"

"I had no idea," she admitted moodily, ripping off a handful of grapes from a bunch across from her. She caught Riddle's curious gaze but she couldn't bring herself to care even about that. Looking back to the bright, waving version of herself she muttered, "I would have insisted on a better picture if I had. That was taken almost a year ago."

He nodded pulling an arm around her, before going back to the paper, "You're my sweetheart," he noted, "Should we be holding hands?"

"This isn't funny," she insisted, nudging him harder than she usually would have, "The election is in fall, you dunderhead. We're not having any privacy this summer, no matter what country we go to."

He rolled his eyes at her, "The only way they're going to care is if we do something conspicuous. Taking pictures of people out for coffee gets old."

She glowered at him, and began speaking very quickly, her panic mounting, "I don't want anyone following me anywhere, even if it is to get coffee, which we probably won't be able to do because my mother is sure to be a full tyrant if it matters at all to father's appearance, especially when I'm expected to start -"

"Merissa, you're being ridiculous," Abraxas cut her off, sternly, beginning on his breakfast again "I've dealt with this before, back when my mother was hot topic for the press and plenty when my father makes unpopular rulings. Just don't give them anything to write about."

She looked at him uncertainly as he resumed his meal, "You're not that interesting," he promised her, making her scowl. Smirking, he went back to his bowl.

After a few minutes of watching Abraxas eat, Merissa did settle down, finding the wandering eyes did not linger when she was at the Slytherin table. She even allowed Andrew to begin recounting to her every time he was in the Daily Prophet. He got about four stories in when Abraxas became too annoyed to allow it to go on any longer.

"Have you ever made the front page?" Abraxas asked, leering over Merissa's head at him.

Nott flinched at his abrupt interruption, " Er - no I haven't, though I really should have been once after -"

"It's a lot different," Abraxas told him savagely.

Merissa hid her grin with her fists, eyes peeking out at Abraxas' stony expression, "You have been on the front, twice?" she clarified, knowing well it was more than that.

"Three times," he corrected, not missing a beat.

She turned back to Andrew and shrugged, "So hard to keep track."

He didn't give her much of a reply - not that she expected one, just offered her a strained smile and turned sheepishly back to his food. She shot Abraxas another grin but caught sight of a raven haired girl stalking towards her in the process, turning her grin to a grimace.

"Look, it's our very own dignitaries. Did you see the piece in Witch Weekly as well?" Susan called, yanking Alphard towards the Slytherin table as she pivoted, spotting Merissa.

Alphard began shifting beside her, avoiding Merissa's eyes, evidently not as comfortable ripping her apart today. Susan however, was like a shark that smelled blood, "Nice picture by the way, how'd they get you all to smile?"

"If you weren't so blatantly jealous that might have actually been hurtful, Nigellus," Merissa shot back easily, stealing a strawberry from Nott's plate. Rebutting Susan was straightforward if she could pretend it were someone other than her best friend glaring at her with such malice.

"How does it feel, being in the spotlight you always yearned for, Merissa?" she continued, pushing a spot for herself next to Abraxas who ignored her entirely except to tighten his grip on his spoon. She acted as if she had not heard Merissa, though she was clearly miffed that Nott and her were shoving each other playfully now, neither even looking in her direction.

"I mean obviously," Susan extended, louder still, "That is why you chose certain rivalries this year, to keep yourself relevant."

Susan's tawny eyes hung heavily on Riddle, though the meaning of her words were clear enough for anyone. It was brief however - even Susan wasn't bold enough to hold Riddle's cool stare and she dropped her eyes back to the table.

"You should talk about being relevant, Nigellus," Abraxas sneered, turning his nose up on her.

"Good morning Abraxas," Susan snapped back, "I saw you were mentioned as well, almost more than Merissa. Shame for her, the men in her life seem to be the only thing she gets recognition for."

Abraxas leaned closer to Merisa as she froze, as if he hoped he could shield her from Susan's venom. Alphard blinked, as if he could not believe his ears. Merissa too swore she must have misheard her, because surely no one, especially not Susan, could hate her that much. She sucked in an involuntary breath, turning wide, shiny eyes up at the tall girl. Susan met her stare, and opened her mouth as if to say something before she closed it again.

"Shut it, Susan," Alphard breathed.

Susan swung wildly around on him, mimicking everyone's surprise that he had said anything. Apparently, she had finally crossed the line.

"Excuse me?" she demanded.

"Let's walk," he muttered back, scooping up both of their bags and striding out the of Great Hall before anyone could argue.

Susan blinked after him for a few moments before turning to Merissa with a strange expression on her face, speaking in a voice meant only for her ears, "Of course he would defend you."

It wasn't an angry statement, or accusation even, so Merissa was taken aback, suddenly unsure of how to respond to anything except anger from her once closest companion. Before a coherent thought had crossed her mind however, Susan also left.

Abraxas was giving her that look again. Her childish instincts were telling her very loudly to stomp on his foot and any moment she thought they might win.

"She was so out of line Merissa," Druella comforted, breaking the moment by squeezing Merissa's arm, "Imagine - as if your father being minister would be a bad thing."

Merissa smiled vaguely at her. She noticed Riddle watching her still, but found it difficult to care, because these days almost everyone seemed to.

And it was about to get so much worse.

The entire day, she was ogled at, only kept from violence only by James' constant repetition of, "Calm down, don't stare back, keep walking," under his breath. Despite his peace call, she was handing out detentions ruthlessly, pulling every rule from proper cloak length to no wands out in the hallway. By the end of the day her mere expression was enough to make most anyone scamper out of her way like a first year, and she made those who did not regret it deeply. One boy whose red and gold tie was draped around his neck like a scarf took particular issue with her dictatorship.

"That's rubbish!" he cried after her, "I can't give up a weekend for detention so close to a quidditch match!"

"Pity," she snarled back, "Maybe you can learn something useful during it, like how to tie a tie."

He sputtered incoherently at her before pointing accusingly at her chest, "Yours isn't fully tightened either! What, because you're the new hopeful minister's daughter?" he demanded indignantly.

She pulled the strip of blue and bronze fabric from her neck entirely, waving it at him like a weapon, "So you can see my prefect badge!"

He merely stared at her as she stalked off to dinner, where she originally been headed before the Gryffindor had said something that sounded dangerously like her name. Even James hadn't tried to calm her, already having disappeared downstairs, she guessed.

Already having lost all stoicism, she dramatically collapsed into her spot next to Abraxas once she reached the Great Hall. He looked alarmed as she looped her tie back around her neck, adjusting it to her liking. Already, now that her anger was wearing off, she felt entirely ridiculous about the whole thing. After all, what had she proved to that boy? That she was insane, perhaps. Abraxas was right - if she didn't give anyone anything to talk about they wouldn't. She just wished it wasn't such a constant standard to uphold.

"What happened?" Abraxas asked, watching her finish tightening her tie with raised eyebrows.

"Nothing," she replied, but she could tell he wasn't going to be satisfied by that so she added, "Third year got in my way," surveying the food around them before choosing a roasted hen to begin on.

"My god, Thorpe, did you strangle him?" Olive Hornby heckled loudly from down the table.

Merissa stared levelly down at her, "No, but I should have."

Olive narrowed her heavily lined eyes back at her, but the girls went back to ignoring each other soon after. Hornby just wasn't worth the effort lately.

 _Calm down, don't stare back, keep walking._

Why did James' well meaning words sound like her mother's in her mind now? She shook her head. It was exhausting living up to everyone's expectations.

Alphard, who had taken the spot across from her, smiled, but did not say anything as he stirred his soup. Merissa watched the steam rise in intricate spirals from it, veiling his face with mist. Despite telling herself she did not care, she was wondering what he had said to make Susan sit back at her table and only glare over at them, as opposed to throwing jinxes. Alphard himself didn't seem to notice, his eyes trained to a spot on the table. Merissa couldn't help but follow his gaze, quickly discovering what had caught his attention. A scorch mark from when they had set off a small firework from the table on the last day of their fourth year. Her chin wobbled slightly.

No later than when she felt Abraxas' eyes flicker up to her, she closed her jaw tightly refusing to give him a reason to stare and give her away. She couldn't deny the warm feeling that had accompanied Alphard's return but she also refused to display anything but impassive contempt for him until he made an effort. After all, it wasn't her who abandoned him.

Not everyone seemed pleased with Alphard's sudden return to his house table, however.

"I thought you had made the transfer Black, what are you doing back here?" Andrew snapped when his attempts to engage Merissa in conversation were met with mostly silence.

Alphard didn't look up from the soup he had still yet to eat any of, "I missed spending every meal in the presence of such an abhorrent keeper, Nott."

Abraxas was watching Merissa again with the frustrating look again, so she started fiddling with Nott's sleeve under the table, distracting both of them successfully.

"Andrew has improved drastically over the year," Druella defended, glaring at the intruder, "And he's right, you nearly forfeited your right to sit here."

"Was there a point when you were actually worse than you are now?" Alphard feigned shock, making Nott stand up furiously. Druella opened her mouth again, outraged.

"If I can sit here, so can he," Merissa sighed, without looking up from her meal, "I'm not even a Slytherin."

Druella closed her mouth, if not a little dejectedly. Merissa had let go of Andrew's sleeve as soon as it had served as a effective enough distraction, though he was still leaning close to her as if he hoped she might continue. Between the two of them, she felt rather suffocated. Abraxas was alternating between giving cool looks to Black and Nott. Merissa thought he soon would lose the ability to smile if he neglected the muscles any longer.

"You're giving me a neck ache just watching you, Malfoy," Lestrange sneered, but his smug expression was broken almost at once by his soup bowl suddenly exploding, spraying him with tomato basil. Merissa grinned, but was unwilling to look up at her handywork and incriminate herself. Abraxas threw a few napkins in his direction, fabricating some lie about how dishes cleaned so often with magic could malfunction, dismissing the few curious stares that his housemates were giving Lestrange, now covered in red splatter.

Despite all of this, Riddle was cleaning a spot on his own sleeve that had been splashed with a look of deep serenity as he watched her. She could have sworn he said, "Wandless too," as he did so, but she could never be sure.

/_\

It was very late that evening when Merissa finally caved and picked up today's edition of Witch Weekly to read the article Susan had mentioned. She had been thankful when it had taken some leafing around to find, and planned to burn this copy in the fireplace once she was done with it to prevent anyone (particularly Hornby) from reading it. To keep anyone at bay, she had curled in the nook of Abraxas' arm, much closer than she normally would. Their unusual display of affection had kept even Druella from beside them, choosing a nearby armchair instead. The rest of the common room was nearly empty, save Alphard playing a violent game of chess with Rosier, Nott and Avery watching. She had flipped through the magazine twice now just to make sure the small, inoffensive paragraph was all that was written about her, but it seemed she was allowed this small victory today.

 _Modern Royalty,_ the title so kindly named her. It was true that in the small picture of Abraxas sweeping her off her feet as they had tried to escape the reporters just yesterday, they looked dashing. The story, much to Merissa's annoyance, seemed to be fluff, and fluff centered around Abraxas rather than herself at that. When there was so much war and political turmoil happening it seemed criminal to Merissa that reporters were allowed to publish such things, but it was what people wanted to read, she knew.

 _As mentioned in today's Daily Prophet, Merissa Thorpe, daughter of minister hopeful Gregor Thorpe, is no stranger to famously. She was first seen in an article here about her long time boyfriend and rumored fiance, Abraxas Malfoy, who was featured because of his work in the ministers office. More on that in next week's piece,_ Minister Malfoy? _, today we will focus on the love in his life. Merissa is in her fifth year at Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw, a prefect and favorite of several professors, including Professor Slughorn, who was kind enough to give us a statement on our elusive girl. "She's always been a gem of mine," he said over a butterbeer in the cozy Three Broomsticks, "Brilliant in my class and all others for that matter. Her father and I share a close relationship from school, and I can say his family is one of his greatest accomplishments is his spectacular children."_

 _Unfortunately, that's all we could get for this week, Mr. Malfoy being vigilantly protective of her, and insisting they had no comments. But do not despair readers! If anyone can crack a case of the story behind a pretty face, it's your very own Clarence Day! Until next time._

"Anything good," Abraxas asked lowly, glancing over as she slapped the magazine onto the ground.

"They recognized that I'm a prefect in this one," she said waspishly, stretching her legs out, "You're Minister Malfoy now. Congratulations."

Deeper down, she knew some of her offense stemmed from an article about her even being so heavy with Abraxas, but she would never tell him this. Susan knew her well enough to catalyze the fear in her, that she would never be recognized as her own person, rather a conglomerate with her family or future husband. Of course, it wasn't Abraxas' fault or anyone's really that because she was a woman she wouldn't be taken seriously, but it still did make her harbor a slight resentment. Neither Abraxas or Joseph were more talented, brighter or more driven than her, but they received thrice the recognition.

"I thought it was really nice," Druella said, picking the issue up, as it was her copy, "Especially for Clarence Day. He usually is quite mean to anyone of importance - except himself. He rips people to shreds."

"I'm sure he will do the same to us, when it will be most dramatic," Merissa sighed, leaning back into the end on the couch, stretching her legs over Abraxas' lap.

"Not if we keep a good relationship with him," Abraxas reminded her, "You just have to control your temper."

 _Calm down, don't stare back, keep walking._

"Likely," she muttered, closing her eyes. She had caught Alphard's gaze again, which made her unexpectedly exhausted, "I'm just going to sleep here tonight. It's late."

"You have to join me in my room Merissa," Druella said earnestly, "You can't just sleep down here yourself. And Abraxas can't stay down here, could you imagine the rumors. . ."

She certainly could imagine them, hilarious as the idea might be to her. They couldn't exactly explain to people why there was nothing to worry about.

 _Calm down, don't stare back, keep walking._

"Hornby lives in your room, so I really would prefer it here," Merissa assured her, "I'll be fine really, And don't even think of sleeping down here when you have a bed so close."

Truthfully, Merissa wouldn't have wanted Druella to spend the night with her either way. Easy as her company might be, Merissa could only tolerate her for so long. Druella, before anything else, was a follower in her mind and her constant chattering was a stark contrast to someone like Susan's quite thoughtful demeanor.

Bleaker still, Merissa faced the reality that Susan was yet another motivator for her to sleep here. As her party had been winding down, Merissa had found Avery and interrogated him on the walk back to the castel about Susan's mother, their families being as close as the Malfoys and the Thorpes. He had confirmed the worst - that Susan's mother was back at St. Mungo's. The imagine of visiting a frail and blanched version of Mrs. Nigellus several years ago had haunted Merissa since. She didn't have the determination to stay angry at Susan anymore, as sure as Merissa was that she did not deserve her forgiveness.

"I am sure that Nott wouldn't mind sharing his bed," Abraxas hummed into Merissa's ear, effectively pulling her from her thought, making her scoff and move in offense to a chair.

"I'll be fine here," she flared, throwing her legs over the arm.

He rolled his eyes at her before kissing her on the forehead, and bidding her goodnight. Druella stood up after a few minutes but was unwilling to retire before one last attempt, "Are you positive you want to sleep down here? I could have my brother walk you to your common room. He's such a milksop, no one would ever think anything happened-"

 _Calm down, don't stare back, keep walking._

"I am quite sure, Druella. I appreciate your concern for my reputation," Merissa insisted, annoyance threatening to seep into her voice, "Good night."

"Good night," Druella nodded but her eyes flickered to the boys, still engaged in their chess game.

"They wouldn't dare, Abraxas would kill them," Merissa assured her. This time, Druella was finally convinced and disappeared up the stairs.

 _I would kill them_ Merissa corrected mentally, grinning to herself as she settled back down into the high-backed chair. She watched the boys finish the chess game, her eyelids drooping more and more. Once upon a time, Druella's implication could have frightened her enough to endure a night with Olive Hornby, but now that she had a brain of her own she knew that none of these boys would ever be a threat to her. Alphard would never do such a thing, Nott preferred conquests to victims and Avery and Rosier simply were not interested.

For this reason it was easy to close her heavy eyes and tip her head back onto the arm, letting the soft sounds of them muttering to each other and the crackling of the fire. She was sound asleep before they had cleaned up.

Across the common room, Andrew collected his carved board from the other's as they bickered over who had really deserved to win. Spotting Merissa still there he made a few strides towards her before realizing she was asleep. He hesitated, still a few paces away. Feeling Black's eyes on, he made his way hastily up the stairway to the boys dormitories. Alphard stayed behind, collecting his things, having strewn them around the room. Growing up with a house elf had made him messy, and it was something he often struggled with. By the time he was nearly done the rest of the boys had followed after Andrew, the late hour calling them to their beds. Alphard hesitated as he grabbed his jacket off a table, his arms already full. Retrieving it took him just behind the large armchair Merissa was slumped across. From here he could just see a few tendrils of her hair escaping down the arm of the chair, shiny even in the flickering light from the fire.

"Dammit, Thorpe," he hissed as he tried to head up the stairs, but found himself unable to, an invisible force tethering him there. He turned back, now met with a vague silhouette of her form, twisted at odd angles to fit into the chair. His armful of belongings were set back on the table, surrendering. She was going to have a incredible neck ache if she slept like that, he justified, allowing his feet to take him back to her and leaning down to pick her up.

She frowned in her sleep, but he managed not to jostle her too much until he put her down on the couch. Her eyelids fluttered as he moved his arms from under her.

"Andrew?" she whispered, eyes still mostly closed, too drowsy to focus them.

"Ouch," Alphard laughed, slightly to cover his actual hurt at her assumption. He knew she was far too intelligent to ever have feelings for a prat like Nott, yet he remained unhappy with how openly Andrew was able to express his interest in her because of it.

"Al," she said softly, opening her eyes slightly at his voice, "Are you allowed to touch me? I don't remember a-" she yawned, interrupting herself, "authorizing that."

"You tell me," he murmured, kneeling down to be at her level, "I've been awful to you."

"Yes," she agreed into the leather of the couch, her eyes still closed, "Arse."

He chuckled quietly, standing up again, "I feared worse."

He had made to leave when she caught his hand. He looked down at her, her eyelids still dropping, but eyes looking at him with fierce determination.

"Stay," she insisted.

Meeting her eyes for the first time since that night sent a thrill down his spine. Even in the dying light of the fire they had their own spark, drawing him in. As if her request wasn't enough to tempt him, her broken voice seemed to yank at his very soul.

"I'm always alone."

In his mind, he had already followed the lurch she sent him on, he was lying in the spot beside her on the couch, letting her burrow her face into his chest, so that they both might feel less alone, never alone even, and placing his lips on her dark waves while she murmured -

But this fantasy broke in front of his eyes as quickly as it had formed. Even in her stiff resolve, he could see how she was hurting, something profoundly different than any expression he had seen on her before. She was afraid, and reaching out because she thought being with someone would make her less afraid. But she was wrong, and he wouldn't allow her to fall into that trap.

"No, Re," he said, gently prying her hand off of his, "You wouldn't want me to if you weren't so tired."

Tired. Frightened. Alone. They were all synonymous with a deeper, nameless fear imbued in both of them, so it seemed a close enough comparison.

"True," she whispered, allowing her eyes to close again, "I'm still mad at you."

"Yeah," he agreed, mostly to himself as his collected his items off the table again, "You should be."

Alphard forced himself up the stairs, knowing any moment his resolve might crumble. Once he had entered his dormitory, he knew he was safe. Just this once, it seemed a blessing that Riddle was such a light sleeper - it would stop him from any temptation of going back down again.

"Arse," Merissa whispered again, when she could hear his footsteps fade away. For good measure she stayed still for a few minutes, slowed her breathing, her eyes shut tightly. When she was sure no one would be loitering anymore, she allowed herself to turn over so she was facing the back of the couch. She opened her eyes, seeing nothing but the darkness of the leather, her mind spinning.

/_\

When morning broke, Merissa awoke suddenly, unprovoked. She pushed her mass of dark waves back off of her face, the chilly morning air sweet on her skin. She was still facing the dark leather of the couch seat, but someone had put a pillow under her head. She tossed it behind her, finding it to be too stiff. It made a strange sound as it encountered something in its path.

 _Alphard must have come back,_ she thought. She smiled and hugged another pillow to her chest, still pleasantly drowsy. It was early, she deduced from the dim light filtering through her lashes. They would have time before anyone else came down, a chance to reconcile or chance to argue, she wasn't sure which yet.

"Good morning," she said softly into the pillow she was holding, marveling at the softness of the green silk. There was no denying that this was the most comfortable common room. She always slept well here after particularly exciting parties thanks to the cold air and open space it allowed.

"Good morning," a cool voice greeted, making her whip around.

She found she was indeed not alone, but it was not the fifth-year Slytherin she had expected. She lobbed a pillow at the figure, recognizing it at once at it lazily flicked their wand at the pillow, making it thump to the floor just before their feet. It landed next to the other one she had thrown, explaining the peculiar sound.

"Riddle!" she seethed, yanking her robes back up, as they had fallen to her shoulders, revealing the sleep-rumpled shirt she had underneath, "Do you have any idea how creepy this is?"

Tom looked up from his novel mildly. He was seated in his usual high backed chair, legs crossed. The winter morning light was not enough to read from so he had lit several oil lamps around him, strategically placed. In fact, he seemed to have been far too busy to watch her much, but she refused to suspend her indignation.

"This is my common room Thorpe. I was not about to deprive myself of my morning read because you were intruding in it."

She glared at him, before jumping up to pace, his eyes following her. She raked her fingers through her hair, grateful that she had seemed to have slept stilly, as it was hardly knotted. She flipped it back over her shoulder as she turned to him.

"I want to accept your offer," she said firmly, one hand on her hip.

"Really."

It was not a question. She tossed her hair at him and started pacing again, "I think if I could stop glancing over my shoulder so often, it would vastly improve things. It's becoming increasingly complicated, dealing with new aspects of my life as well."

"You are a new celebrity," he agreed airily.

"What is that supposed to mean, Riddle?" she demanded, rounding on him and slapping her hand down to the arm of his chair. She couldn't pinpoint what had made her so bold, but she thought for fraction of second something like surprise passed over his face.

"Exactly what I said," he stated calmly, staying completely still, though she had passed his usual limit of proximity, "You are full of fire this morning, Thorpe. I never knew I could elicit the strongest reactions from you by doing absolutely nothing."

"I have no patience for anything but business today," she snapped, straightening herself back up but staying directly in front of him to keep his gaze. She was trying to decipher any trick in his expression, but she had to admit her limitations even as she did so. Riddle was still impossible for her to read. His eye contact was steady as he looked back up at her and she began to have a strange feeling in her stomach, so she added in a clipped tone, "So do we have a deal?"

"You have not set any terms," he said, closing his book, realizing this would be a long conversation, "I am sure you have many."

"Yes," she nodded, "First of all, no more watching me sleep."

"When you stop sleeping here, I can certainly promise that."

She glowered at him, continuing, "I want your bunch to leave Alphard alone. Don't even breath wrong, Riddle, I mean it," she warned, when the corners of his lips twitched at this demand, "I want to know at least as much as Lestrange about all your doings. You're going to give me peace, obviously."

He continued to nod throughout her requests. She narrowed her eyes at him. If her father had taught her anything (and it could easily be just this one thing) it was that a negotiation was never a good one until the other person objected. Riddle was willing to bend, so she should do just that to him. There was one other thing she wanted, given her discovery about the chamber and she knew it was something he wouldn't be happy to give up.

"And I want you to start teaching me Parseltongue," she added.

His face had stayed pleasant throughout he demands, but darkened at her final request, just as she had guessed it would, "That is impossible," he snapped, "You were not born with the talent."

"I guess my cooperation is also impossible then," she retorted, making his eyes flash.

She had already decided she would settle for nothing less.

"Fine," he agreed seeming to recognize her stubborn set expression, "I will attempt to, though I highly doubt your abilities."

There was no doubt in her mind that he counted on just that and she looked forward to demonstrating what a proficient linguist she was. How like him it was to assume that a language could be only inherited through magical bloodlines.

"I have terms too," he said, the contempt palpable in his voice.

"Go on," she allowed, finally sitting down cordially.

"You will stop competing so fiercely with me in classes," he began, already making her grimace. She wasn't quite as stoic as he could be, "You will act as beta in all other leagues of life. We will be working together Saturday's and Tuesday's now."

"What's the hurry on the journal?" she mocked. She felt good that she could find this weakness, now entirely convinced he was better at negotiations than her.

"It has become time sensitive," he grumbled, "Do we have a deal?"

"We do," she agreed, surprising him by clasping his hand in hers into a firm handshake, "Also, I get to touch you now."

"I will see about that," he retorted, talking back his hand pointedly.


	29. Hissings

**Hi guys! Hope you all have been well. I've been doing a ton of writing lately, for this story and a new project I'm working on that I'm very excited about. Its going to be a crazy next few weeks with Halloween and exams but I will do my very best to still get the next chapter done in time. Thank you for everyone who had been reviewing/favoriting and following. I reached 100 followers last week and that was very exciting! I appreciate all of your support and most of all hope you . . .**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

January 26th, 1943

Merissa was dangerously close to being late, a consequence she had reminded herself of about fifty times while she lay in bed after dinner, absolutely exhausted from the week so far. When the smaller hand on the ornate grandfather clock that sat in the corner of her dormitory had hit the eight, she knew she should have emerged from the cocoon of blankets, pulled on her Oxfords and began the descent. Unfortunately, between homework, prefect rounds and her duties as newly anointed member of Riddle's group, her body refused to erect itself until the hand had slide alarming close the the ten. Crawling into bed, she knew had been a traps intself - with every minute that went by in the comfort of her bed making it so that she was more likely to putt off leaving it and end up being late. But she had been too warm and too full, and sure enough, here she was, racing to the seventh floor corridor as fast as she could. Once she reached the intended patch of wall, she thought as hard as she could about needing to make it in time, and indeed the door seemed to understand, for it didn't not make her pace three times but appeared right away. Gasping in relief, she flung it open, nearly toppling inside in her haste.

As soon as she entered though, she knew it was safe. Everyone was already here: Abraxas, Avery, Nott, Rosier, Lestrange, Travers, Mulciber and a few older boys, but they were laughing, passing around a bottle of firewhiskey and pouring themselves drinks. Avery was speaking loudest of all, telling a story that she knew she would disapprove of it she heard too much of. They were all smiling easily, which could only mean that Riddle was not here yet. Late to the meeting he called himself, it seemed.

Thankful for her luck, it was easy to put on a bright smile, joining them in their celebrations.

"Merissa!" Abraxas cried blithely upon seeing her, pulling her into an embrace.

"Happy birthday darling," she greeted him, attempting to place a kiss on his cheek. He surprised her by turning his head to kiss her on the lips instead. Though their kisses were hardly long and entirely for show, they still managed to make her feel awkward afterwards every time.

She laughed a high pitch laugh as she pulled back, though is was not authentic to her own ears. Everyone was watching them, she was all too aware, so she did her best to act as if nothing strange had happened. Abraxas seemed far too jubilant to notice, however, beaming as he produced a glass for her as well. The chatter around them resumed again as the alcohol continued to circulate.

"It has been an exceptional birthday so far," Abraxas told her earnestly as her poured her an overflowing shot of firewhiskey. She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't want much anyways, but he spoke over her, excitement tangible in his voice, "I haven't been able to tell you any of it, you've been so tucked away in your studies lately," she opened her mouth again to explain she hoped he knew it was not meant as a slight but he continued over her again, "Of course, I received several letters from my family wishing me well. I even received one from your father, separate from the gift him and your mother sent me - which reminds me I must write them an extensive thank you know, Venetian silk is so tragically rare."

She stared up at him, beginning to sip the disagreeable liquid. Rarely had she ever seen Abraxas in such good spirits, possible never this much before.

"The letter he sent me offered a job, though, in his private council if he is to win. He hadn't told me what position specifically yet, but he said it would have a salary that would make getting out own household ready would be no issue, right out of Hogwarts. I mean imagine, Merissa. He's always complimenting me on how well I manage you, he says its convinced him there's no one better made for the spot."

Merissa's expression had darkened so severely that even in his giddy state Abraxas recognized the change, stopping him long enough for her to ask, "Did my dear father say anything else?"

"Well yes, he mentioned something about your mother being anxious to see us married - in fact I think my mother was expecting it to be rather soon after we leave Hogwarts, which would be easy with that position, for us to have a house waiting for us to move into just after."

Abraxas missed the way Merissa's jaw flexed at this, now glaring down at the amber colored liquid in her cup. She knew that their wedding was inevitable, but was Abraxas so blind to not see that this was the entire point of giving him the position? So they would have no excuse not to get married at once and Merissa would be contained to a house the rest of her life.

Abraxas' bubble of joy could not be popped however, and he babbled on, "And perhaps most amazingly, when Riddle heard the other's cajoling me to drink with them for my birthday he said he would postpone the meeting thirty minutes so we could drink and not annoy him. Can you believe that? Just for me."

Merissa immediately decided that this was the real reason for his mood. Over the last week she had been observing Abraxas more closely with Riddle and found his admiration for their leader ran deeper than she had ever imagined. The other boys were pleased to have a place to be loud and drink, but Abraxas thought that this act was especially made for him, as a sign of favor. Merissa was quite sure Riddle meant it as an insult instead, but couldn't bring herself to point that out to Abraxas, especially not when his usually cool gray eyes were dancing with so much joy. She took a deep sip of the burning liquid to stop herself from saying anything more. This was hardly the place for such conversations, and the boys had stolen Abraxas' attention anyways.

"Happy birthday Malfoy," Avery toasted his flask, "We hate you all, you lucky bastard. Your hair is fantastic though."

"Thank you Avery," Abraxas said smirking as he clinked his own glass against it, "I have always aspired to be that arse with the nice hair."

"And the youngest ministry official, ever?" Avery asked, cocking his eyebrow, "If Thorpe wins, that is."

Most of the other boys laughed; Nott scoffed, "Of course he's going to win! His support was huge before he announced and its grown tenfold since then. Tell them Merissa!"

This conversation had nothing to improve Merissa's mood so she replied rather begrudgingly, "Anything can happen."

She was certainly not rooting for a victory.

"Aye, mate," Avery said, no one really hearing her, clapping Abraxas on the back, "Its your birthday you know, and in the celebration of your new position you might just . . ." he whispered the rest into Abraxas' ear smirking at Merissa, making Abraxas' usually pale complexion turn scarlet.

Avery grinned at him, clapping his shoulder again, "How's that for a birthday present?"

Abraxas didn't reply, taking a swift gulp of his firewhiskey to avoid saying anything. Merissa was content on pretending she didn't know exactly what Avery was whispering about. Not everyone had the same intention, though.

Lestrange, who had been sulking in the corner as he often did at meetings, now had stepped forward boldly. Since her instalment in the group, Lestrange had become completely disenchanted with all of it. The only real thing she liked using her new position of power doing was tormenting him, and he showed it, in the dark rings around his eyes a far cry from his usually handsome, if not rather animalistic, features.

"There's no need to whisper, Avery, it's no secret that they don't participate in such acts," Lestrange mocked, his eyes glued to Merissa's face. She made sure not to give him the reaction he was hoping for.

"How would you know, Lestrange," she rolled her eyes at him, "And besides, we're not supposed to. We're intended, not married."

She didn't have to look at Abraxas to know he was uncomfortable. This very conversation was what he feared most. Eventually, people would question why they weren't producing heirs, or why their kisses still seemed reserved. She could feel him bristling beside her.

"You're the only person who follows that rule, Thorpe," Lestrange snapped, "No one else would dare be such a prude. And no real man would let his needs go so unfulfilled like that," he added, sneering at Abraxas.

Merissa hoped very much that Abraxas was still wearing a cool, disinterested expression. She knew hers was perfectly in place.

"I know you and Hornby certainly haven't followed it," she snarked viciously, "Tell me, is she better or worse than half your mates have told you?"

"How dare you, you hateful little bitch!" Lestrange snarled.

Before he could advance forward, or Merissa could throw him against the wall or Abraxas could tell everyone to just calm down, Tom came sweeping in, joining them at last.

"Careful, Lestrange," Riddle warned, his entrance silencing them all, "You'll end up with inside out ears like Mulciber."

Merissa smirked at him, lowering her hands from their defensive position. Lestrange might be senseless enough to continue to antagonize her, but he wasn't half foolish enough to disobey a direct order from Riddle, or ignore the fact that Mulciber was still in the hospital wing after being on the receiving end of her hex just yesterday.

One couldn't deny that they were all sleeping better now that Merissa and Tom had called a ceasefire. Mealtimes were no longer spent with one hand gripping a fork and the other clutching a wand under the table, and in the corridors, there was no need to flinch when they nodded at each other. Merissa in fact, had rarely looked healthier, the jarring sharpness of her cheekbones gone and her color returned. Abraxas had even rid the seemingly permanent bags under his eyes and on a good day, he pinched the bridge of his nose only twice. Riddle himself even seemed to be less serve in general, but Merissa couldn't be sure, Abraxas insisting he was always fair to them.

Only Lestrange had looked worse and worse, and it was no secret why. As they assembled themselves, Merissa moved to her position on Riddle's left, the right being reinstated to Abraxas. Lestrange was the only one who still flinched seeing this, the spot once belonging to him now occupied by a she-devil. Gazing about, she regarded them all, trying to mimic Riddle's disinterested disdain. Andrew was grinning at her because of it. She raised her eyebrows at him and he averted his eyes, reddening.

Tom ignored her silent distractions, making Lestrange twitch noticeably. Though he was used to being favored, he had never received half the treatment she was. No one else besides Abraxas knew about their arrangement and therefore the reasoning for this and it was proving to be a near breaking point for Lestrange.

As for the others, they accepted it easier than she had originally anticipated. Being the only girl was shocking enough, but being a Ravenclaw as well, not the mention the Ravenclaw they had been sent to keep watch on and who had challenged their leader to a duel more than once had made it a bizarre concept for them. Once Riddle had explained - an rather briskly at that - that she was powerful and therefore belonged in their company, all but Lestrange agreed. It was the first time of many since that Riddle had surprised her with how well he could lead people, rather than just make them fear him as she had assumed. Their respect for him was chosen.

"What do you have for me today?" Riddle asked, moving to lounge in his usual spot. He reminded Merissa of a large cat when he did this, looking lazy while having the ability to pounce at any moment. She leaned against a nearby bookshelf, hoping to replicate his posture, if only to get a laugh.

"I got the full test for Herbology off of a particularly helpful assistant," Avery offered at once, stepping forward to hand Riddle a thick stack of papers.

His dark eyes raked over the paper greedily consuming the information. He might have already memorized it at the rate his eager mind seemed to absorb things.

"This will be distributed," Riddle nodded, "Good. Anyone else?"

There was a beat of silence and Merissa felt the tension in the room begin to rise. Why they didn't all prepare something ahead of time when they so obviously were terrified to not be helpful, was lost to her.

"My lord, I have heard the selection process for head boy and girl started today and on the shortlist are -" Lestrange started bravely.

"I hardly care who, as I cannot be selected yet," Tom interrupted, making Merissa grin down at her shoes, "And besides, I happen to know Macmillin is the only one they are seriously considering, tragic as that may be. Please only keep comments relevant."

There were several snickers from across the room and Lestrange seemed to swell with anger. He directed it at the only person he knew how to.

"Do you have anything Thorpe?" he demanded.

She looked up, making him flinch, and in return making her smile stretch wider, "Yes, why thank you, Lestrange!" she turned to Riddle, "There was another strange explosion in America, destroying 200 tanks."

"And?" he challenged, clearly drunk if he dared, she decided silently.

"There isn't a war in America, you egg," she laughed again, making him shake with fury, "So what happened? They had to obliviate a bunch of muggles to hush it up but they also didn't report on it. I found out by listening to a Muggle broadcast before it was removed. Our ministry didn't want to becoming news. Therefore, it must have been Grindelwald."

"That doesn't mean -"

" _Silence,_ Lestrange," Riddle hissed, "She is right, even if you are too feeble minded to make the connection. Well done Thorpe," he added much more mildly.

She dipped her head respectfully as he continued, "As for you Lestrange, I suggest you hold your tongue before it ends up. . . elsewhere."

Riddle glided from the room, his past favorite crumpling at the knees as he breezed by him. Riddle paid no notice to Lestrange, calling over his shoulder, "I will expect you all here Thursday."

"Come on Ab," Merissa laughed, taking Abraxas' arm and scoffing at Lestrange who's knees had now sunk him onto the stone floor. Abraxas didn't argue but was giving her a knowing look as he followed her lead towards the door.

Travelers was quick to kneel down beside Lestrange, "Should I take you to the hospital wing?" he asked faintly, but Merissa heard him.

"He will be fine," she called back to him, "Though you won't be if you aren't in your seat in the great hall in ten minutes."

Abraxas's expression intensed at her, but she ignored him as Travelers was following, reluctant as he might be. As they made their way down to lunch, they were stopped by several passersby wanting to wish Abraxas a pleasant birthday.

"You're so popular," Merissa teased after they finally escaped Walburga and Joseph.

Even her brother had dropped his freezing behavior of late, approving with how she was spending more time with Abraxas and had seemed to reconcile with his friends as well. Undoubtedly, he thought she had finally stepped back in line. She could only imagine his horror upon finding out that instead she had stepped further out of line than ever before.

And besides, Joseph thought Abraxas a near perfect human being, particularly now that he seemed to have put his foot down with Merissa.

"I am, quite so," Abraxas agreed breezily, "Though notice how although I am popular I don't use it to torture people. It is possible to be one and not the other."

Merissa sighed, not at all surprised that something along this string was what he had been thinking about. Abraxas had always been much more concerned about the ethical ramifications of her actions than she was.

"If you should be telling anyone that, it should be Riddle, not me," Merissa grumbled, as they entered the great hall. She gave a warm smile at several people who waved as she walked by, speaking from the corner of her mouth, "I use my influence for good causes. Lestrange deserves everything he gets. They all do. I wasn't the first girl they cornered, though I might have been the first that managed to stop them."

"They are terrible, deserving of punishment, that is if you can be an unbiased judge," he nodded, as they took their regular spot across from Riddle.

"Eat your potatoes, Malfoy," she snapped as she started filling her plate.

"I love mealtimes," Andrew smirked as he slide in next to Travelers and Avery, "The rich smell, decadent taste, and the sweet sound of you two bickering. Reminds me of dinner parties as children."

"The food here is hardly decadent anymore," Abraxas sighed as he speared a boiled carrot.

The diversity of food, even at Hogwarts, had started diminishing as the war had taken its toll. There was less and less meat, and more and more fillers. Where once were full roast hams, turkeys and hens were now spilt along the table, diluted by bread made of coarse wheat and every vegetable imaginable, in varying states of boiled. The food was still quite good, but Abraxas, who had never had a meal in his life that hadn't been prepared by house elves, was not used to anything less than lavish.

"I cannot wait to go home for Easter holiday," Andrew lamented, "If I see one more potato, I might lose my mind."

"There are worse things than tuber overloads, Nott," Merissa reminded him quietly, "So many people will be starving this winter."

Andrew looked taken aback, chewing his food thoughtfully. "Interesting. Is that going to be what you speak for as minister's daughter?" he asked.

"No would care what I had to say," she shrugged modestly, as she had noticed Riddle looking darkly at her. Part of their agreement was that she not draw too much attention to herself, which he had been fairly lenient on, but she did not want to test him.

Nott however, was oblivious, "Everyone here cares. You're bright, well spoken and come from the right kind of family," Druella was bobbing her head enthusiastically from the other side of Andrew.

"She also has a wonderful boyfriend," Abraxas said pointedly.

Until very recently, Merissa had no idea that Abraxas could hold anymore disdain for anyone as he did for Alphard, however Nott had managed to exceed even this limit, a mere comment from him putting Abraxas on edge. Merissa understood why, of course, but she felt acknowledging Andrew's recent attitude, even to discourage it, would only make him more tenacious. He was the sort to think that anyone telling him no was playing games.

Merissa pretended not to notice the tension, and gazed up at Abraxas with deep admiration, "I do," she declared fondly, making Druella swoon.

The tension broke and they ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Merissa kept catching Alphard's eyes drifting over to her, though she kept her eyes down, meticulously cutting up her food. Eventually she had nothing left to mince and had to begin eating the carefully cubed meal.

There was no particular reason to feel uncomfortable, but Alphard had been horribly proper to her since the night she had asked him to stay and she feared she had offended him, almost as much as she feared herself for what she had said to him. The avoidance had been mutual between them since, but he still seemed to gravitate towards her during meal times and they never ended up more than a few seats away from each other.

"So have you finally written to those contacts Slughorn gave you, Merissa?" Alphard asked, sounding rather like his impressions of Joseph. Merissa pursed her lips.

"Yes," she replied, swallowing her food thickly, "I've been brewing in Slughorn's office for a few weeks now, as they asked for samples. Should only be a couple more days until they are done."

"What potions are you making?" he asked, enunciating more than he usually did, which gave his voice an uncomfortable cadence.

"I have finished a variation on polyjuice, draught of living death and an invention of my own, which allows the drinker to have advanced senses for a brief period. Unfortunately, the last of these isn't working out too well. I am hopeful the felix felicis I am working on will be a success."

Merissa hoped that she might make up by quantity of words, but even as she spoke she could tell her tone was just as strained as his was.

"How interesting," he said, rather mechanically "I'm sure they will turn out adequately."

They were saved from another bout of silence by Walburga Black taking Andrew up into conversation about the union of their cousins the coming spring.

"Of course, they are certainly jumping into things," Walburga frowned, clearly not pleased to be related to anyone who might with off the wrong impression. Andrew already appeared bored as she continued on, " Joseph and I are planning on waiting until after he gets a position in the ministry, so we can move straight into a house in Kensington. I have my eyes on the classic owned by this batty old lady, hopefully she'll croak around the same time so we can get it."

"Congratulations then," Andrew said amiably, extending his smile to Joseph, "Your father's new position will certainly make that easy, aye Thorpe?"

Joseph managed to keep a pleasant expression intact. He - much like Abraxas - found Andrew to be highly inappropriate, hardly pureblood, in his mind. Walburga continued, though Merissa suspected her change in subject was a reaction to Joseph's crushing grip, "Joseph gave me the ring, it was his great grandmother's, simply timeless," she held out her hand for those listening to examine and fawn over it.

"Not nearly as big as Merissa's though," Andrew snorted, earning a nasty look from both Walburga and Merissa herself.

"Merissa's what?" Alphard asked, looking up from his food.

"Her ring," Walburga sneered, "As if it wasn't bad enough to have you as a brother, you have to be a dolt -"

Alphard had stood up, nearly backing into the wall before he turned and started striding away. Merissa jumped up to rush after him. She hadn't realized he hadn't heard of her popularized Christmas gift, yet also knew that wasn't how he wanted to find out. Surely, she was creating more of a spectacle by chasing after him but she didn't care. They whispered either way.

She caught up to him as he had started descending the stairs. She called after him but he ignored her, marching onward up the stairs. She grumbled to herself as she began running down the steps, catching up with his furious stomping quickly.

"Alphard, stop, you're being ridiculous," she tried, jogging alongside him to keep at pace with his long strides. He refused to acknowledge her his eyes staring forward, jaw set.

"Everyone back there is going to get the wrong idea," she snapped, but she could tell that wasn't a good enough reason for him. It wasn't a good enough reasons for her either so she instead argued, "I haven't done anything wrong."

She stepped in front of him hoping to halt his steps, and she succeeded, although only because the skulls made crashing contact with each other. They both staggered backwards.

"Way to add insult to injury, Thorpe. Why don't you and your damned ring get out of here?" Alphard snarled, rubbing his chin where her head had collided with his. His icy facade thawed as he saw tears forming in her eyes, "I'm sorry. I don't know how to act around you anymore. That's not your fault."

"I don't give a damn about your attitude," she hissed, cupping her forehead in her palm, "Your jaw must be nearly as dense as your head. I feel like I ran headfirst into a wall."

He stared at her for a moment, as she kept her eyes glued to the ground, massaging her skull gingerly. She looked up in annoyance when he didn't respond but was stopped when she saw he was grinning.

"Shut up," she snapped, trying to stay angry, avoiding his infectious smile, "I don't know what could possibly be funny."

"I'm not saying anything," he chortled. She bite her cheek, but found a moment later she was smiling anyways.

"Let's see that hunking thing," he sighed, "Where is it anyways? So ridiculous when you can't wear it."

"I do," she disagreed, making him grimace. She fished the chain from under her robes, the large ring glittering at the end of it.

Alphard was put out by this, despite his attempt at a stoic attitude, "So close to your heart. Just like him I'm sure."

"He's my best friend," she argued, slipping the glittering mass back under her robes. She had to admit, even she disliked how much attention it drew to itself, "I was recently abandoned by my two regular ones."

Alphard almost appeared abashed, but his jaw was still taunt, "Best friend who you plan on spending the rest of your life giving thrills to," he bit.

Merissa laughed out loud at this, making him stare, "Oh Merlin, Alphard. You really don't know?" she giggled.

"I don't need this," he muttered darkly, starting away.

She caught his arm, still laughing as she pulled him to a less populated hallway. He didn't resists her, otherwise she would have had no chance in towing him with her, but he also didn't look pleased, avoiding her eyes. She shook her head reaching up to make him look at her and she suppressed more giggles.

"Ab is gay, you egg," she whispered, eyes shining in amusement.

He stared at her as she continued laughing, for several moments, and then a minute after she stopped before he said, "You're joking."

"No," she smirked, "That's why we've gotten on so well recently. We're only pretending for other people now. Also helps that I'm no longer offended by his reluctant to snog."

"He would have to be gay," Alphard mused, clearly shaken by this revelation, "He has great hair too. I've always been jealous. Don't you dare tell him that," he added fiercely as a smile started forming on her face again.

"I don't think the two are necessarily related," she argued playfully, "You have nice hair too."

"I do?" he asked, suddenly looking dazedly pleased as they started walking again.

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, "I figure we're even now? Both put each other through months of agony, right?"

She knew it wasn't a good deal, that she should make him grovel, and so did he, but she was too desperate for her friend back to prevent it herself. He seemed he might know that but didn't say anything of it.

"I disagree," he joked, but his expression was only shallowly happy, "My agony was more profound and extended. I demand compensation."

"Don't get greedy, you're still an arse," she warned, "Just an arse I associate with."

"All I can ask for," he smile, patting her on the head, "See you, Thorpe."

/_\

Tom Riddle was not sulking, that much he was sure to remind himself regularly as he paced the come and go room, flipping violently through the notebook himself and Thorpe had been transcribing the journal into. They had gone through nearly all the pages that had been in languages other than Parseltongue, yet still, there was nothing.

Not to say there was nothing helpful or interesting. Many encrypted spells and instructions he had used to great success, the writings being much more liberal with dark magic than the Hogwarts' library - even in the restricted section - ever was. All things considered, the book was coming together much better and more quickly than he could have hoped for.

But there was nothing useful on the chamber, the single goal he had yet to accomplish for the year. And although months were left in the term, the frost had started to recede somewhat, fresh life threatening to poke through the snow and invite the arrival of spring, which was then dangerously close to summer.

Tom hated summer far above any other season. He swore the heat and bright light became more disagreeable with each year that passed. Summer meant many things to many people, but to him it only meant the deprivation of magic and Hogwarts and nothing could be worse. Not a single happy memory had occurred for him before the month of August and indeed, anything before September first was just in anticipation of the upcoming term. The professors praised him for having such a zeal for learning magic, but he couldn't imagine enjoying a moment away from it.

The journal seemed to grow heavier each day its true secrets remained undiscovered. He grew desperate for his meetings with Thorpe, even if she tested his patience. The beginnings were always the most hopeful, filled with the potential of finally revealing the page they needed for it all to make sense. He didn't know what he would do with himself when they reached the end of the book, which would be quite fast at this rate. She was far better than he had originally given her credit for.

Still, his own brain itched for more and he wanted to believe she was mistaken in telling him there was nothing in the pages they had previous poured over, though he was sure she would not be so wrong.

Perhaps he would look into teaching himself some Greek and Latin, just to be sure. He stashed away the journal, the pages already copied for today and left the room with the intent of checking out a few books on the subject before his meeting with Thorpe today. Just to be sure, it couldn't hurt he rationed, hurrying out the door with less care than he normally would have.

He was irritated, pent up and angry. But certainly not sulking.

/_\

Merissa had stationed herself at their meeting place hours before he was set to arrive, slowly working through the weeks reading for classes as she waited. When she left it up to fate, he always had a way of arriving just a moment before her and taking the seat she preferred. Even last week, when she had spirinted all the way from the Ravenclaw tower, he was settling into the powder blue paspan just as she had come around the corner.

"No fair," she had gasped, leaning a hand against the shelf as she caught her breath, bag still swinging on her shoulder, reeling from the momentum of the abrupt stop.

Tom had raised his dark eyes at her, "Good evening, Thorpe. Perfect timing, I've just arrived."

"I noticed," Merissa had said testily, but she knew better than to directly address the matter. Stealing her chair, like most of his actions, was a game and one he didn't expect her to win. More to the point, it was not one he would ever admit to partaking in.

This afternoon, however, ensuring her victory had been easy, as she would have come to the seat to study anyways, but she was sure he would also raise the stakes after today. She understood him now, to a certain extent.

When the tower bell became chiming, seven tolls to indicate the hour, Riddle appeared around the shelf, his stride stuttering for the briefest of moments as he saw she was already there in her seat. She gave him a smile that was meant to be a greeting but even as she displayed it, Merissa could tell it was more of a smug smirk. His eyes flashed but after a moment he appeared almost impressed.

"You're early," he commented, taking the less sought after chair. Truly, it was probably a more comfortable seat, having a ergonomic slants and upholstered with the same dusted blue fabric, but sitting it had a second class feeling to both of them.

"Actually I'm just in time," she corrected. He scowled, but it was brief, the passing of another student by their section making him remedy the sour expression quickly. She rolled her eyes at this, but he missed the gesture, reaching down into his bag to retrieve the notebook that had began transcribing the journal into. She had given him several more for class, silent gifts she hoped would insult him.

"Half a page today," he informed her, displaying the copied ruins to her, his pristine writing covering the page. This was their ritual, he prepared the days translations for her and she deciphered them with him until they had finished the section, then he set wards around their area and they began on the part of the lessons that Merissa liked - the Parseltongue.

Merissa lifted to the notebook to squint down the page, "This is just ruins," she told him, "You could have translated them just as quickly as written them down. I hardly think you need my help on them."

"I like to be sure," he snapped, handing her a quill rather forcefully, "I thought the ruins might have had slightly different meanings when they were written."

"Well they're ancient ruins," Merissa pointed out snarkily, still feeling rather empowered by her earlier victory, "I don't think they have changed for a few thousand or so years."

His expression was enough to make her avert her eyes back to the pages, however, "Alright, alright, I'll get going," she muttered.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, Merissa wiped off the quill on the page and handed it back to Tom who had been supervising her progress over her shoulder.

"You can't be done," he insisted, refusing the take back the quill.

"As I'm sure you've been seeing, yes I can," she said pointedly, still holding out the feather for him to take, "There's nothing but a poem on this one. I'm sure you knew that while writing it down though and wanted confirmation so here it is: yes, it's just a poem. No, meaning is clear to me either."

He still wouldn't take his quill back, frowning at the page she had just finished with malcontent. Merissa sighed, "I could translate it from ruins to Latin and then back if you wanted, but it would come out the same," she told him, "You know I don't make mistakes."

"So you claim," he said stoutly, and Merissa carefully raised her mental wall, just in case he tried to verify that with a peek in her mind. She was getting better to not thinking of her discovery or what she was doing in her free period now around him, but sometimes it still reared its head, threatening to expose her.

"You know our deal," she said impatiently, "I finished the page. Put them up."

He didn't seem settled on the subject but he raised his wand, muttering enchantments around them that would prevent their voice to escape the bubble around them that already repelled wandering eyes. None of this would have worked in the slightest if the librarian didn't have high opinions of them both and left them alone or if everyone wasn't so intimidated by them anyways, but as it was, it worked well.

Merissa had already unpacked a different dark bound journal from her bag, eager to master more of the elusive language. She knew her mother would kill for the opportunity to learn Parseltongue, and perhaps that was part of the appeal it had for her. How many people could claim it? At most, ten in the world at a time and only two who would admit to it. It was too closely tied to dark magic now, no thanks to people like Tom Riddle.

"Can we learn commands today?" she asked, avoiding meeting his eyes by setting up her inkwell with far more care than it required. Despite this, she felt his eyes suspicious on her.

"Why commands?" he asked. His voice implied he had already decided her guilt.

"Why not?" she tried right back, still adjusting her writing materials, "They're useful."

He scoffed, "For commanding people around I suppose. I have the next set of nouns prepared anyways. I will teach you those or nothing at all."

She nodded reluctantly, posing her hand to write, her eyes down on the blank page, ready to be filled with her smudged, slanting handwriting, a far cry from the perfect calligraphy he had filled his notebooks with. Her hand waited for instruction, but none came and she knew he was still dissecting her.

"Look at me, Thorpe," he commanded. She did so, though her chin raised defiantly as well. When he spoke, his words enunciated as if chosen carefully, long pauses giving each its beat of impact, "I hope you would know better than to lie to me."

His words hit like stones on still water. She could feel them rippling in her mind. Once inside they shifted plans and ideas alike with their current. Her face remained a still pool.

"That would be incredibly foolish, and I have come to think of you as minimally so," he stated. His expression was as blank as she was keeping the front of her mind. No attack occurred, however much she expected it.

Merissa knew she should have looked away moments ago, salvaging what she could, but his black eyes immobilized her. Though they did not sting, her eyes became horribly aware of how long it had been since she had blinked. Eventually, after what could have been second or minutes, Tom broke his own trance by referencing his Parseltongue preparations for today.

Merissa slowly let out a breath, hoping she was subtle enough that he didn't notice. His face betrayed nothing, just as it always did.

"Chair," he said, without raising his pools os obsidian at her again, gesturing at the seat she was planted in, "Is . . ." he made a strange hissing sound.

Merissa immediately began trying to replicate it, though it was harder than usual, her tongue heavy in her mouth.

* * *

 **And that's a wrap! There was a lot going on in this chapter between Abraxas' feelings, Merissa joining the meetings, Alphard being Alphard, and a Parseltongue lesson? What do you think, I would love to know! I promise the next chapter will answer all your questions about what Merissa has been doing with the information she found out from the party - I promise its not nothing haha.**

 **To my reviewers:**

CarolinaFlint: **Thank you for you kind words! I'm glad you think Tom is in character, I try my best to keep canon characters canon, even if it does mean making him awful sometimes. He is not keen on sentimentality, however he does keep his collection of treasures from his crimes against fellow children at the orphanage - an interesting dynamic within one character. That will be important later, that's all I can say for now, but I'm glad you picked it up(: Everything is a power game for them now, both still convinced the other is a morbid threat, and not entirely wrong either. I took your advice and tried to break up the paragraphs - thank you for that! Re-reading I was like oh my goshhhh, but its hard for me to tell sometimes because I obviously re-read everything way more so its all rather familiar by the time I publish it. Thank you again for always leaving such detailed reviews, it makes my day(:**

SkittleLuvr.x3: **Hi again! So glad you're still reading, I always love hearing from you. Merissa is truly a gem and holds a special place in my heart. I hope you have been enjoying the updates since(:**

beefsupreme: **Susan sometimes injects pure NaCl into her veins, true story (not really). But in all seriousness, thank you for your reviews! I keep thinking I'm going to write a chapter without them interacting, not because I want to but for polt purposes, but I keep find myself slipping in an interaction, even if its just her noticing he's watching her. From her perspective its interesting because even when she swears she doesn't care what people think, her eyes wander to him in nearly every situation, and I think that's pretty accurate to how she feels drawn to him but doesn't understand why. As they interact more, that becomes more clear. I was actually just working on a chapter a few chapters from now where that is very clear(;**

Ivet: **You are so sweet making sure you review each chapter, oh my goodness! Thank you so much(: Susan is an interesting character because you 'understand' where she's coming from. She feels like everyone cares more about Merissa even though Merissa doesn't try nearly as hard as her. Alphard was the tipping point, because Susan has been interested in him forever but he's too distracted by Merissa, even though she's not available. Even Thomas stealing her quidditch captain position feels like she's being overlooked, because she is a better player and leader than he is (no offense to Thomas, I love my ridiculous hall monitor pretty boy). With the addition of her mother being sick, just one too many stressors for her. Obviously, blaming Merissa for all of this is not productive or fair but just how she is coping. In regards to Tom and Merissa, you were absolutely right that she wouldn't turn him down for long. She's way too interested in what's happening now to leave it be. There will be ton more of Merissa's family in about five chapters, which I hope will be illuminating and interesting. I've purposefully kept it a bit ambiguous how things are there so far. Alphard is coming back around, slowly but surely. I always love the love for Tom and Merissa. Thank you again for your review and continued support!**

knuffelmuff: **Thank you for you review! It made me laugh to see the two consecutive after another as you read. Yes, she did give him the notebook, though I hope its not spoiling to say that is not THE NOTEBOOK. The diary is related to the notebook she just gave him, but its not the same. I hope that makes sense and if not, in a few more updates it might make more sense.**


	30. Falsified Fancies

January 28th, 1943

When Merissa sat down for breakfast a few days later, she really should have known the day would be entirely abysmal. The old formation of seating had been recreated with Alphard's return, with Alphard on her left, Abraxas on her right and Riddle blocked entirely from view by Avery. However, today there was hardly any room, having to squeeze herself between the two boys and toppling over Abraxas' pumpkin juice in the process. As she apologized, she siphoned off the liquid from her robes, but Abraxas didn't seem to care, too buried in his Daily Prophet to notice much. Olive Hornby however, did notice and began hissing viciously to the girl beside her about it. Merissa sent her a wuthering glare before beginning to arrange her breakfast, quickly discovering the fruit bowl was already heavily raided, leaving a meger selection. Frowning, she selected a rather misshapen apple. Just across from them, Druella was making quite a racket for so early, doting on Andrew, who had been exiled from his spot beside Merissa by Alphard's return.

"You can't wear it like that!" she was telling Nott, pulling a scarf from his neck, "You have to at least fold it over like this," she tugged on it, making him have to duck his head close to hers. Smiling brightly at him, she artfully folded the fabric in on itself several times so it created a thick wrap around his neck.

"I feel like a prat," he complained, straightening up and loosening her knot at once.

"It looks good, Druella's right," Merissa broke in, knowing this would settle it and quiet both of them, "That's how Abraxas does it when it's cold out."

"It is," Abraxas agreed, smirking as Andrew adjusted to scarf, now smiling at the girl on his side. Indeed, Abraxas did seem like someone to take after these days and he certainly wasn't discouraging this image.

The return to normalcy continued, as Riddle ignored them, favoring the conversation Avery and Travelers were having about dueling. Merissa kept expecting his eyes to flicker up, however she missed even the slightest inclination of interest. Further down, Joseph was reading the Prophet with zeal, while his fiancee chatted with another seventh year Slytherin.

"Anything interesting, Thorpe?" Andrew asked, down to Joseph. He seemed eager to escape his conversation with Druella which kept turning back to adjusting his clothes despite his efforts to curb her.

Joseph cleared his throat importantly, making Walburga pay attention, and closed to paper, "In fact, I was just reading about my father's polling."

"How is he doing?" Merissa asked, now interested as well - a rare feat for her brother discussing politics.

"Don't expect your privacy back anytime soon," Joseph warned, opening his paper again now that he had made his announcement to the table, "He has already received an 80% approval rate. Unpredicted."

"That can always change," she muttered, earning a nudge from both Abraxas and Alphard.

She knew that it was 'selfish' of her to be rooting against her father, but between her eagerness to not have to side step the reporters who kept popping up around the castle and her genuine belief that almost anyone else would make a better minister, it was difficult not to. Her father was very experienced in politics, it was true, however this also meant he would know how to get what he wanted efficiently. None of this made her eager to support him.

The owls were still circling overhead, delivering morning post when Merissa began eating her breakfast. Since her return to Hogwarts, she had received no mail, so she was marginally surprised when a letter was dropped into her lap. Head craning up, she saw her family's unmistakably immense falcon swooping overhead. It cawed loudly, startling several students throughout the hall as it echoed. As all things related to the Thorpe name, it refused to be ignored, making several circles around the Slytherin table before it disappeared again, presumably to the owlery. It didn't like Merissa anymore than she liked it.

"I've never understood why they insist on using that monster when they have plenty of normal owls for business," Alphard noted, recognizing the bird's call without glancing up. The bird, properly called Hermes by her mother, but less than affectionately christened Cockatrice by Merissa because she swore it was more like the beast than a bird. It made an excessive amount of noise even at home, echoing hauntingly through the halls and leaving a strong impression on their guests.

"Anything to embarrass me, I'm sure," she muttered darkly as she chucked the letter onto the table. It unceremoniously clunked into her goblet, stopping it from sliding further. She glared at her mother's neat calligraphy. Being left handed had not prevented Merissa from being subjected to years of lessons on the art, though she always ended up with a smudged mess anyways.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Druella pipped from across the table. She was not nearly as familiar with Merissa's customs, having sat on the far end of the table until recently.

"Unlikely. It's from her mother," Andrew smiled at Merissa as if he expected her to be impressed by his deep observation. She ignored it entirely.

"I doubt she had anything pressing to tell me, otherwise she would have sent it through Joseph," Merissa said crisply as she selected a dark golden piece of toast. The houseleves in the kitchen never allowed it to be charred, as she liked it, so she settled for the darkest piece.

"I'll paraphrase?" Alphard offered, having just finished his own breakfast, "I think I know what its about."

"Go ahead," she tossed him the letter carelessly before returning to her breakfast, running her butter knife along a nearby margarine and spreading the coil across the darken edges. Real butter had been absent from the table for weeks now, being too hard to come by with the war raging on.

Alphard cleared his throat importantly, imitating Joseph before beginning to read in a pompous drawl, "Dearest Offspring -"

"Oh, it does not!" Merissa cried, though she pulled his arm and the letter grasped in it towards her so she could confirm. Her eyes skimmed the pointed calligraphy down a few lines before she released him, requesting, "Please just paraphrase, and somewhat accurately."

"That was accurate-" he defended but stopped after seeing her expression, "Okay. It has a generic but polite introduction. She's heard you're doing well in classes, you bookworm. Which I too respect, don't look at me like that Malfoy! . . . She sends regards to both you and Abraxas, so nice. . . "

"Get to the point," Merissa requested, biting into her first piece of toast, having already spread liberal amounts of apple butter over it, "You said you knew something about this letter."

"I'm getting there," he placated, waving a hand at Merissa, "She's just long winded. . . here we go. _In regards to the upcoming Easter holiday_ \- hardly, it's in April - _we will be spending it at the Black residence with the Malfoy's and Avery's, the Nott's staying nearby as your father is working on a business deal that could benefit all families and wants us to get to know eachother better."_

"They have all known eachother since before their Hogwart's days," Merissa argued, as if it was her mother resting on the table and not her thick parchment, "How well do you have to know each other?"

Alphard shrugged, "My mum mentioned it might happen a few letters ago. Made it sound like it was necessary for meetings. I just forgot to mention since -"

He stopped abruptly but Merissa didn't need an explanation. He had forgotten since they hadn't been talking at the time. The beat of silence made them both look back down to the table.

"Probably for their cult meetings anyways," Merissa joked, attempting to break the silence before it set in. Alphard nodded slowly.

"It's just good business to do everything in person," Abraxas shrugged, evidently finding it less peculiar than the two of them. He had become increasing sympathetic to her father since his birthday, and Merissa had trouble not telling him exactly how she felt about it then and there.

"It an excuse to do business all break, at the very least. No one can attack him for not spending time with his family if that's what he's doing," Alphard observed, breaking Merissa from her rumination, "Whatever it is, my father has been ecstatic about it. Been having the house absolutely scoured by the house elf by the sound of it," he paused thoughtfully, "Not that I told you that," he added with a grin.

Merissa smirked, imagining the untapped terror of Mrs. Black if anyone found out her house wasn't always sparkling. She knew how testy her own mother became if anyone so much as knocked on the door without proper warning. Once, Embrietta Goyle had arrived to tea a half hour early and Merissa had been told to distract her in the courtyard until the house elves could finish polishing the silver.

"Will your cousin be home?" Merissa quiered.

Lucretia Black was Alphard's youngest cousin, who despite both of her parents stony personalities, was cheerful and silly, the way six year olds should be. She had taken after Alphard in that respect, and was quite commonly at his house during the holidays.

"She'll only be there for Easter dinner," Alphard told her, making her frown, "Your families are filling the guest rooms. I never thought I'd see them all at use."

It was true. The Black house was immense, especially for the heart of London. Though they would in, no way, be crowded together with the long halls and innumerous rooms, it seemed to Merissa that disaster was bound to strike with them all under the same roof. It was not uncommon for her family and the Malfoy's to vacation together, but this high of a concentration was unprecedented.

"I can't say I'm too excited to spend the holiday away from Hampshire, and in London no less," Andrew complained, raising his nose, "But you will see me all break," he added, smiling mischievously at Merissa, whilst leaning slightly into his eggs.

The Nott's were an unusual addition to their party - not that this particularly excited anyone, except Andrew. His family worked in business, relatively new money and not in the ministry, which made them second class according to most elitists, Gregory Thorpe in particular. Merissa was not sure if this prejudice was why she found herself repulsed by his advances, or merely because she found his assumption in her returned interest to be insulting. His ego far surpassed his talents either way, which was why she found it easy to return his playfulness with a cold front.

"I am electrified at the opportunity," she told him expressionlessly, making him go back to talking to Druella, a bit deflated.

Satisfied, Merissa reached down for the apple butter she adored, without looking. Her hand grasped empty air, as it was not where it had been a moment ago. She scanned the table for her jar, only to find that Riddle was holding it hostage as he slowly spread the golden preserves across his toast.

She waited for him to be done, tapping her foot impatiently. At her own table, she was the only one who touched it, so she was unaccustomed to waiting. Tom seemed to have some inkling of this, his knife working painfully slow. He was taking ages now, starting on another piece of toast, seemily just to peeve her.

"Riddle," she finally interjected, when he had finished a third piece.

"Thorpe," he nodded, without looking up from his food.

"Pass the apple butter?" she requested, keeping her tone nothing short of saccharine. She was practiced at biding through his power plays, as he had been sure to check that she would hold up her end of the bargain.

"Travers," he directed, his voice a disinterested lint, "I'm eating. Pass Thorpe the preserves."

Travers quickly obeyed, handing the jar to Merissa and accidently brushing her skin, which she had made purposefully burning hot. She had expected him to be clumsy.

He should known better than to think he could ever touch her again without punishment.

Cursing, he retracted his hand, which now had a small raised pink oval on it. His eyes flickered to Merissa accusingly but she had already begun using her recently regained preserves, giving her an excuse to smirk away from him.

"However did you manage that," Riddle asked for the benefit of everyone who did not recognize Merissa's talents.

"B-bacon grease," Travers whimpered, continuing as he saw Merissa's expression and realized this was not an elaborate enough of a lie, "Must have s-splashed up when I picked up the jar."

"You must be more careful," Merissa chided, taking his hand in her now cooled one and examining his burn. He nearly wretched his arm away, but she kept a firm grip.

"Goodness I just want to heal you!" she cried, raising her eyebrows at him, "Don't be so flitty."

His eyes flickered between her and Riddle, begging him for protection. Finding none, Travers allowed her to take out her wand and hum a few words of gibberish under her breath, while healing him with the hand that was still supporting his. He must have felt the difference because he looked even more horrified as he leaned back into his seat, cradling his now unmarked hand.

"Wow, great job Merissa," Alphard commented, all but rolling his eyes at her. He knew, of course, and while he didn't chastise her about misusing magic like Abraxas did, he didn't approve of it in such cloak-and-dagger methods.

"You're so talented at healing," Druella murmured, wide eyes on Travers hand. Although Merissa considered her a bit less than astute, the girl had certainly seemed to have notice some of the miraculous things she could do.

"Thank you Druella," she smiled, "That is just too kind of you."

Joseph, who had suffered his fair share of burns, looked unamused staring down the table at his sister, but said nothing. Apparently, he didn't think highly enough of Travers to scold her for it.

"Shall we walk Mer," Abraxas asked, in a less than surreptitious attempt to draw her away from the attention and towards a more important goal than domineering over Travers.

"Why, of course," she agreed brightly, taking his hand, allowing him to pull her up, "We have all this free period to find empty classrooms," she added in a loud whisper.

She knew Druella would hear her excuse, and spread it to the table when they left, giving them a solid abili. Really, they were going to do what they had been doing every free period since school resumed - scouting out the entrance to the chamber.

It was an ideal time, because Riddle had Care of Magical Creatures with the majority of his house. Abraxas, who thought the only creature he needed to know about was a house elf, had not minded dropping the class for their explorations. Coming up with a reason for no one to see them during this time was easy to fabricate as well, if not very creative. After all, hardly anyone would bat an eye at a couple disappearing down one of the less populated halls for a snog. Leading her past several other older couples who looked like they might have the same idea in mind, Abraxas chose the third floor for them today. She let out a loud giggle as he pulled her into an empty classroom, smirk on his face.

Once inside they both dropped their smiles, for far more serious expressions. Merissa shrugged off her bag onto the table and began rummaging in it purposefully.

"What's the plan for today?" Abraxas asked, watching as she extracted one of the silvery cloaks.

Since her discovery of the mistake in the translation of the journal, they had been much more meaningful with their visits. They knew that a phrase had to be spoke in Parseltongue to a specific part of the bathroom and then the chamber was supposed to open. As of yet, it seemed they still had to find the place and speak the correct word, but it was a vast improvement from their old baseless tactics, and indeed more focused than even Riddle knew to try.

"I'm going to try combinations of new words he's taught me," she told him, finding the notebook she had transcribed her small Parseltongue vocabulary, "I haven't had the nerve to ask him what the word for 'open' is, because that seems a bit obvious, but I got a few variations and phrases similar enough," she explained, quickly running her finger down the paper.

"Should we change here -" Abraxas started, stopped by the sound of the doorknob turning.

Shoving the cloaks back with one quick motion, Merissa quickly pressed both her thumbs against his lips and kissed them. In a flash, he had tilted her slightly back, hands wrapped around her waist so the lack of contact of their lips would be missed by whoever was coming in.

They pretended to be surprised when they heard someone clear their throat noisily. They broke apart to see Professor Merrythought staring them down.

"Sorry Professor," Abraxas gasped, acting abashed. The jolt of their quick action had made a light flush on both of their faces, selling it well, "Free period - er - won't happen again."

"Run along then, you two, don't let me catch you again. . .Thorpe, you know better," Merrythought scolded, though Merissa was sure she wasn't actually upset.

"Right, sorry Professor," she agreed, ducking her head to hide a cheeky smile.

The halls were empty now, the hour already begun, so they hurried down the stairs to the second floor, now that their chances of being caught had lowered dramatically. Merissa pretended to look around and made a point to tiptoe once they were in the room. Abraxas rolled his eyes at her as he shut the door after them.

"You think anyone saw us, Sherlock?" she asked in a timey accent, ducking down although the class was empty. She checked under a few desks before popping up and hissing, "Jankies, no sign of any intruders."

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned, "Now where are the cloaks?"

"Here," she offered, pulling them out of her bag once more, "You wouldn't believe how close Abby came to finding them when looking for a hair ribbon to borrow yesterday."

"Bach is clueless," Abraxas frowned, taking one of the masses of invisible fabric from her, "Now get yours on so we can get in their."

Merissa obliged, pulling it over herself, just as he did the same. Now the room appeared to be occupied by no one, both hidden under their respective cloaks. Leaving the room was always more difficult than entering, as neither could see the other.

"Ouch, that's my foot," Abraxas hissed as she trodened on it. They were both edging for the door.

"Sorry, your foot," she muttered. Reaching the door first, she put a palm in the middle, making it creak open, allowing some of the afternoon light to come into the otherwise dim room.

"Just enough to get through," she reminded him over her shoulder.

"I know," his voice said impatiently. Though he was invisible, she was sure he was pinching the bridge of his nose. Even with their tremendously improved understanding, she still caused him many headaches.

She slipped out into the hall, which was blissfully empty. She had crept to the entrance of the bathroom before she saw the door move again, signaling Abraxas had made it out too. She shifted the bathroom door, propping it open with her foot, waiting. Eventually she heard Abraxas' breath, just a few inches away and then a hiss, "Okay I'm in, close it."

She pulled her leg back and let the door go, entering the large room. The light filtering in through the windows provided ample light, the torches no longer lit at this time of day. At this point she might know it better than any lavatory in the castle, even the one adjoining the dormitories. The sage colored stalls were as empty as ever. The only differentiation was one door having initials of a long gone couple engraved on it, the others all blank. They had looked into that particular stall more extensively than either would have liked to admit, hoping it was a clue, but at the end of the day there had been nothing there. Somewhere inside this place it was here though, that much at least was clear. She could feel the magic when she put her palms to the walls, the doors, even to the porcelain sink basins.

Still operating under her cloak, Merissa pulled out the notebook she had written the little parseltongue she knew in and began reading over it again, trying to recall Riddle's voice in her head.

"I'm going to keep checking the mirrors," Abraxas spoke, spooking her slightly as his disembodied voice floated from her right.

"Right," she agreed, glad he couldn't see how she had just jumped, "I'm going to try these and then combine them with wand movements."

They worked in silence for a while, uninterrupted. She was growing more and more frustrated as every week went by, but nothing new came up. She hadn't expected to have succeeded this early, but she had expected to have some sort of sign that they were going in the right direction. Riddle and her had finished the page from the journal, and she had fed him bad information for the last third. To her relief, he had shrugged off that the document didn't have anything important, saying they'd just have to move on to other pages, which they had.

At the sound of the door, the two of them, still cloaked, retreated swiftly to the furthest corner, pressing themselves between sinks. They could not see who had walked in from here, only hear that they had not come in to freshen up.

High pitched sobs were bouncing off the walls, making Merissa grimace at where she assumed Abraxas was, quickly remembering he couldn't see her expression either. It seemed unlikely this would be a speedy visit. They waited for several minutes, hopeful at first, but as the cries only increased in volume, they both started edging out of their hidings spots. Unfortunately, because they had no way to communicate, they bumped into each other, with a soft thunk. Merissa stiffened, holding back profanities and listened for any indication the sad girl had heard them. When nothing came but still increasing sobs, Merissa put out a hands and felt for where Abraxas was, still completely unmoving. She inched around him, taking what she assumed was his arm with some difficulty, so that they could move together towards the exit.

When they edged around the island of sinks, Merissa recognized that it was Myrtle Warren, the meek girl who's present she had accidentally abducted during Christmas. She was sitting on the floor, large eyes covered by her hands. Merissa relaxed slightly, pulling Abraxas along. After several excuritiating minutes of shuffling, they made it to the door. Merissa stopped, unsure how to proceed. She looked back at Myrtle, who was still covering her face with her hands. Merissa sucked in a breath as she turned back around to the door and shoved it open.

The light from the wide windows momentarily blinded them as they stumbled into the hallway, the door closing and cutting of Myrtle's sniffling. She released Abraxas's arm, and flexed her fingers, noticing they had cramped only now. Without a word Abraxas took her place, clutching her arm as he nearly dragged her back to the classroom, though she willing paced beside him.

"Do you think she saw?" Merissa whispered.

"Nothing we can do if she did," Abraxas hissed from somewhere ahead of her, "Except get out of here."

They were lucky, as it seemed that classes must have been still going, the hallways being clear of obstacles. They slunk back into the classroom they had changed in, yanking off their cloaks once inside.

"Bloody hell!" Merissa huffed, stuffing her own back into the safety of the bag, "What are the chances?"

"That was no coincidence, Mer," Abraxas replied, shaking his head as he handed her back his cloak, which was also stowed away hurriedly, "She knows everything we did during Christmas, which may I remind you, included the chamber. She has access to your things. She was spying."

"That's barmy," Merissa scoffed, "She's barely thirteen, a baby."

"When you were thirteen, you figured out the combination for your father's safe and started stealing wands," he countered as he began artfully mussing his hair.

"She's not doing anything," she insisted, eyes flickering to the door and back to Abraxas, still rumpling his usually sleek hair, "What are you doing?"

"We just necked for an hour," he shrugged, loosening his tie, "Do you look this dapper after that?"

"I wouldn't know," she countered, leaning back on a desk, watching him, "Would you?"

"No," he snapped rather defensively, "But I've seen Lestrange and Hornby enough. Atleast give it some effort."

"Fine," she agreed, pulling her hair out of the braid she had made this morning, "Do you think you're a biter? Should I make some marks?"

"Absolutely not," he warned, pulling his shirt out and retucking it hastily.

"Ergh, I did not take off your shirt," she snapped, tucking the silk folds in more carefully into his waistline, "This is supposed to make it more believable, not less."

He snorted at her but allowed her to adjust his shirt accordingly. When she was convinced it looked normal enough she straightened back up and tightening his tie slightly, though leaving it less than perfect, "We aren't even engaged Malfoy, don't be vile."

"You're no saint," he pointed out, but she simply shrugged, pushing the door open. The hallway, empty so recently, was flooded with students. They didn't have to push with as much vigor as others - many jumped away when they saw them coming. There were certain perks that came with being associated with Riddle, she had to admit.

In fact, they had made it out of the castle without commotion, before the first ambush of the day started. Merissa did not have time to recognize the blue-black head, before it turned and she was blinded by a flash.

"Young love!" came the voice of Clarence Day, as she staggered on the steps, slowly regaining her vision. If she fell, she was of a mind to kill the reporter, who was chirping on, "I do love a good love story, as do my readers. Tell me Miss Thorpe, do you think you get your knack for snagging men from your mother? And Mr. Malfoy, can you confirm rumors that you will be appointed Head of Treasury if Gregor Thorpe wins this election? Miss Thorpe thoughts on having your father work so closely with the love of your life?"

"I don't know how you heard that," she replied coldly, the bright shape in her eyes still preventing her from moving away from him, "But if that were true, I would have no reservations with Abraxas' ability. He is an exceptional worker."

"Get that down," Clarence snapped at his cameraman, who was already furiously scratching down the conversation in a flipbook. Day moved his hawkish eyes to Abraxas, clapping his hands together, "So sweet! Mr. Malfoy, when would you say you first fell in love with her?"

"No comment," Abraxas said calmly, though Merissa's eyes had flashed at the reporters last question, "We have a class we need to get to, apologies."

They began walking again, but Clarence stayed at pace with them, "What class? How do you find the classes at Hogwarts? A large part of the Thorpe platform has been interest in improving the selectivity here, do you agree?"

She was tempted to point out to Clarence how selectivity was a thin veiled excuse to allow less muggle born students into the school but she held her tongue, feeling Abraxas' firm grip on her hand. Besides, she guessed Day probably already knew that if he was so good at snooping. A half blood himself, she guessed by his apparent acceptance of the idea and desperate climbing. Day wasn't any family she had heard of before him, after all.

 _Calm down, don't stare back, keep walking._

She took a breath as Abraxas lead her, flexing her hand, trying to prevent herself from burning his palm with her annoyance. Day was nothing if not persist and followed them, continuing the barrage of questions.

"Do you find the professors up to standards? Do you feel safe walking the grounds? I have heard rumors you have spent a few evenings sneaking out onto these grounds? Mr. Malfoy, are you concerned your fiance might become infected by a werewolf on these jaunts into the woods?"

His progressively ludicrous questions were enough to prompt a response from Abraxas, furrowing his brow, "I - what? No. And she's not my fiancee."

Day seemed overjoyed to get even a word out of him and smiled widely, "Fiancee is a more interesting word though, don't you think?"

Merissa unlinked her hand from Abraxas', unable to contain her anger anymore. Her palms were feverish, almost to the point they became downright painful. She took in a deep breath and tried to pull the magic back.

 _Calm down, don't stare back, keep walking._

But sometimes she simply lacked the self control to keep up the charade.

"I'm sure if any such trips to the forest took place, you wouldn't need to ask about them, with you and your friends roaming around here at all hours" Merissa snapped, rounding on the reporter, "As for safety, it certainly felt safer around here before the leeches arrived. If my father was to win, you certainly wouldn't be welcome."

Clarence raised his eyebrows at her, "Strong words. For the time being however, I am an esteemed guest and reporter for the Daily Prophet at this school."

"Hardly," Merissa sneered, "Half-blood."

Apparently, she had guessed correctly on his blood status because the reporter blanched, turning almost as blue as his hair. Stopped breathing, by the look on his face.

Abraxas nearly dragged her away, muttering apologies. Clarence seemed stuck to the spot, his cameraman in a similar state, mouth agape. It brought her savage pleasure to glance back at them, still rooted like trees just outside the castle. Clearly, he was rarely put in his place. Abraxas spun her back around quickly once they had passed behind the greenhouses, Care of Magical Creatures class still a bit away.

"What the bloody hell," Abraxas hissed, rounding on her, "What happened to keeping a low profile?"

"He left us alone didn't he?" she muttered, glancing back at the retreating reporter.

"Yes, I'm sure he's off to interrogate other's about you now," he ranted, "And eventually he will find someone with a great story. What if he talks to Travelers, Mer? Or see's Mulciber - he still has crooked ears from you."

"They don't have the guts to say anything," she frowned, "Though Nigellus. . ."

"Or that Myrtle Warren," Abraxas flashed, suddenly, "You have made no shortage of enemies on your crusades this year."

"They won't," she insisted. Mulciber and Travers were certainly too intimidated and she very much wanted to believe Susan wouldn't, at the very least.

Abraxas seemed more and more agitated though, so she attempted to redirect him, "I'll walk the rest of the way to class. We're just working with flobberworms today. You're going to be late."

"Fine," he agreed, turning, "Not a word to anyone else though."

His warning was somber. She shrugged off his comment as she headed down to her class. She was sure she would feel the repercussions of her actions soon enough.

* * *

 **Heyo guys! I think I'm going to start putting my notes at the bottom just for aesthetic purposes unless anyone feels strongly about having them in the beginning. Sorry for the little delay in update but California is literally on fire right now so uh yea. I had to leave school and head home for the weekend because the air was so bad. If you want to send some rain dances in our way it would be much appreciated. What do you think about this chapter? Clarence Day? Their attempts to open the chamber? I would love to hear any thoughts (: I hope you enjoyed!**


	31. Dueling Lessons (Of Another Kind)

January 31st, 1943

"Are you ready for the big day, Thorpe?" Avery boomed across the Slytherin common room, startling her from her reading. Her head jerked up from its position a few inches from the pages to look around at him, immediately feeling the pull of a muscle in her neck from the sudden movement.

"For the potions exam?" she asked, gingerly massaging the burning muscle, bewildered from his sudden zeal. To her memory, Phillip Avery had spoken to her directly only a handful of times in the near decade they had known each other. After their most recent encounter had lead to his subsequent torturing by Tom she hadn't expected him to be to keen to chat with her again.

Abraxas laughed softly from the sofa beside her, where he too had his books spread out. They had been taking advantage of a lazy Sunday afternoon to cram from the upcoming round of quarterlies, though afternoon had turned quickly to near evening, the winter sun fading behind the lake. Abraxas had not been able to convince her to make the trek to the library yet so they had stayed. Besides, she liked it here on the weekends. Everyone was gone, playing in the fresh snow or seeking out a warmer nook of the castle, leaving it one of the most quiet and comfortable parts of the castle.

"What is it?" Merissa asked, turning to Abraxas. He shook his head, smirking down into the book in his lap, refusing to respond to her.

"What?" she demanded, looking to Phillip again.

"She doesn't know?" he asked Abraxas who merely shook his head again, grinning, "Blimey, I forgot you've only started attending meetings a couple weeks ago."

She agreed, the peace between her and Tom seemed like it had been in place for a long time, already plenty accustomed to it. However, this observation did not answer her question.

"What is he talking about?" she groaned, nudging Abraxas with her foot. It drove her insane to be out of the loop, and he knew it, using this to tease her.

"The lessons," Davao Rosier peeped, rushing down the stairs and past them to the common room door, "You should all leave soon. We want to arrive in staggers like Riddle expects so we don't draw any attention."

He was out the door before anyone could reply. Phillip snorted and hopped over the back of one of the other sofas, landing agile on his back. He demonstrated none of the hustle Rosier had.

"Lessons?" Merissa asked nudging Abraxas again. Being a weekend, there weren't any lessons scheduled, especially not ones Riddle had authority over.

"We could have kept her going for a while, shame he came down and spoiled it," Avery commented stretching himself out over the length of the black leather and closing his eyes. He put his thick arms up behind his head, rubbing through his light hair as if he was going to take a nap.

Merissa moved to a vertical position to show them both she was serious, demanding again, "What lessons?"

"Riddle gives us lessons every last Sunday," Abraxas told her at last, "Different things each time but always fascinating. He's a wonderful teacher. Everyone enjoys them."

Avery groaned from the side, eyes still shut, "Speak for yourself, Malfoy. I don't care about ancient blood magic. I wish he would tell us what he's really doing in the dammed bathroom."

Though Merissa was tempted to tell Phillip how ridiculous he was for not wanting to learn blood magic, something she had never managed to find more than a mention of, she couldn't miss this opportunity to probe someone so close to Riddle about the chamber.

She cleared her throat carefully and made brief eye contact with Abraxas who had stiffened at Phillip's words, "He hasn't told you anything about it?" she asked, struggling to keep her tone offhand.

Avery tipped his head back to peer at her as if she were insane, cracking his sorrel colored eyes at her, "Obviously not. He doesn't tell anyone about that."

"He must have told someone, something," she insisted. Abraxas flashed his eyes at her in warning but she couldn't help herself, "I mean, aren't you curious? Haven't you ever asked?"

She knew she had ventured into forbidden territory when Avery unrighted himself, all his usual cursory gone, "Not curious enough," he stated plainly.

The rest was easily implied.

Merissa nodded, averting her eyes back to her book, "Am I expected to go today?" she asked no one in particular.

"I would," Avery replied shortly, standing up, "Rosier was right - we're going to be late."

He ducked out abruptly, leaving nothing but tension behind in the common room, now only occupied by Merissa and Abraxas. Merissa sighed and set her book down onto the table. That had gone about as well as she could have expected, she supposed.

"You shouldn't have said anything," Abraxas warned her, "Riddle gets angry when people ask too many questions and you already walk the line."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, picking up the rest of her books and stacking them carefully in a pile beside his.

She didn't want to attract attention to their interest in the chamber either - even when no on else seemed to know (or perhaps willing to admit they knew) that the chamber was what Tom was after. The idea that everyone else was far too afraid to be curious was lost to her. The curiosity burned at her, forcing her forward even when she knew better. Merissa knew it was stupid to be involved, and she knew she should have never accepted his offer, but here she was, spending more time with Tom Riddle than anyone else ever had.

"Let's go," Abraxas urged her, "We don't want to be late."

"So I've heard," she sighed, but followed him into the dungeons anyways.

Once they had reached the entrance to the come-and-go room, Merissa was feeling excited despite herself. Riddle had demonstrated he was an exceptional teacher in their Parseltongue sessions and she wondered what he would bring to his most loyal followers, what kept them so captivated. Their other meetings had run out of their novelty quickly for her, designed for those who needed such reassurance that they belonged to a special group. This however, she was sure would be the display of power that kept them all, even those who could think on their own, like Avery, riveted.

As they approached and paced, the familiar door appeared, allowing them to slip in before it melted away into wall again. Merissa took an involuntary breath as her eyes adjusted to the light, the room markedly darker than the bright winter light reflected in by the snow in the rest of the castle.

The room had changed entirely, not only in contents and style, but in dimensions. Though it was often difficult to tell how larger the room was with the mountains of contents, it was obvious it was smaller and longer. All of the junk had been cleared away without a trace. In its place, the rectangular room was divided into lanes by markers on the floor, large matts at the end of each. The middle of each row was clearly marked and there was generous space from one section to the next. Though Merissa had never seen one before, she recognized exactly what she was looking at.

"These are dueling lanes," she muttered to Abraxas, who nodded.

Her eyes traveled along the rest of the space. There was a mighty fireplace roaring with warmth, flames licking out eagerly. The torches along the wall seemed meager match flames compared to it. Directing in the center of the room were rows of chairs, many already occupied with other members. Several glanced up upon their arrival, but obviously Abraxas and Merissa were not who they were waiting for, so they turned back. There was an eerie quality the the homogenous nature of the group, as if it were a colony of honey bees buzzing to one another.

Abraxas noticed her still staring at awe in the room, unrecognizable from the one she had visited before and explained in an undertone, "Riddle sets it up for us every time, we have no idea how. Incredible magic."

Merissa nodded, still gazing about, "He isn't here yet?"

"He is always the last to come, but the number of chairs is perfect every time nonetheless. Like I said, incredible magic."

They took seats in the front row between Avery and Nott. Neither acknowledged them, a stone like expression plastered to their faces. It was a far cry from their usual demeanors and Merissa wondered what exactly was about to happen that made them act this way. She opened her mouth to whisper to Abraxas, but the door opened a final time, stopping her.

Riddle swept in, lacking none of his usual presence as he came before them, larger, somehow, than the monstrous fire silehotting him. His eyes scanned the room, now full just as Abraxas had predicted. No one, it seemed, was willing to miss this for anything. Every single eye was trained to him with nothing short of reverence.

"Good evening," he greeted them slowly, "I am so glad we could all meet again today. It is a deep regret of mine that these lessons are at all necessary, but as tradition has fallen from this school, so have many things. Quality, for one thing," he paused so that some of the boys could hoot in agreement, "And proper defensive magic for another."

Merissa knew she should keep her eyes respectfully focused on Riddle but she couldn't help but glance at Abraxas in surprise. Defensive spells were hardly ancient blood magic, but his expression told her clearly to wait. She turned back to Riddle, finding his eyes on her as well. He too appeared as if he were waiting for her to get a joke, his eyes sparkling with amusement, but she had no inkling, staring back and chewing on her lip. He continued, "Today we will start with basic dueling, then move onto blocking multiple attackers. May I have a volunteer?"

Merissa was enthralled, excited to watch him duel so much that she almost volunteered herself, forgetting how useless she was with a wand. She was surprised, however, when the hands on either side of her went up.

"Good, good, Malfoy, Avery, Dolohov, I'll take you all up here," Tom instructed, ushering them forwards.

Merissa watched with some trepidation as Abraxas joined Phillip and another older boy she had never spoken to before in front of Riddle, wands already withdrawn. As much as she knew in her logical mind that Riddle was not about to murder the three of his most loyal supporters right here in front of them, she also knew that he could if he wanted to. She tucked her hands under her thighs so that her palms were against the cool wood of the chair, preventing any accidental magic from escaping them.

Tom faced the trio, now several meters away and drew his own wand, beginning to speak again, "It is important," he told the onlookers as the trio began shooting streams of colored light, acting on some covert signal, "To remember, that in the real world, duels will not be started by a controlled countdown," Merissa watched in awe as he skillfully deflected all three hexes, sending back one that narrowly missed Avery, deep blue hissing just above his ear and exploding against the wall in a shower of sparks, "Your attackers have the potential to be creative, varied and many," he knocked the boy she did not know and Phillip off their feet with a strange amber wave. Abraxas dodged and threw back a spell that ricocheted off the mantel, taking a large chunk of marble out of it. Tom pulverized the chunk with one sweep of his wand, the next sending a jet of white light to Abraxas' chest, expelling his wand from his hand and making it arch back towards Riddle.

"Lastly," Tom finished, catching Abraxas' wand deftly in one hand, "Never leave your opponent standing."

With his other hand he sent out a final jet of red light that knocked Abraxas over, stunned. Merissa was left stuck to her seat, her palms tingling furiously. The entire demonstration had taken less than a minute, and now three talented duelist laid unconscious at his feet. Never again did she have to wonder what he did to gain their allegiance.

 _No wonder they are so terrified of him_ she thought, feeling her heart thumping in her throat. Her magic had all but swarmed her body, the energy of it present and thrumming in every vein. Was she terrified as well now? The thrill she felt almost seemed like excitement.

Rosier went around to the defeated boys, bringing them back to consciousness, muttering quietly with a wand to their chest. Once they had returned to their seats, albeit rather battle worn, Riddle began speaking again.

"Partner yourselves off for now," Tom instructed them all, "I will assess what progress can be made from there."

Merissa and Abraxas clumped off naturally, choosing a lane far from the door for themselves. Once they were positioned, Merissa watched with awe as the room became alive.

Around them, other began throwing curses back and forth, illuminating the room with flashes of color and filling it with the muttering of incantations. Avery and Lestrange seemed to be dueling something out, both of their faces screwed up in concentration as they exchanged rapid hexes ferociously. Across from them, near the door, Tom was dueling Mulciber, Travers and Nott all at once, and winning too, pushing them back against the wall as he flicked silent spells effortlessly. It was clear to her after watching his demonstration that he was playing with them, not fighting with half of his actual talent, seeing where their weakness were. She found herself enthralled again, watching how he gauged all three of them all at once and called out corrections to them, improving their form.

Abraxas cleared his throat pointedly, making her turn back to her partner who was watching her expectantly, his wand raised. Her stomach dropped as she finally realized what she was expected to do. She finally understood the punchline to the joke Riddle had been telling her with his eyes.

"Well, ladies first," he encouraged.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, her wand still tucked away safely in her robe pocket. There was a reason it rarely made an appearance, the same reason she so carefully hide her hands away when she was upset. It was bound to misfire.

This was the very last place she wanted to be admitting that.

"I can't," she breathed, her voice half strangled by her nerves.

"You what?" Abraxas asked loudly, making her wince.

"I can't," she said again, managing to clear her voice.

His reaction was as horribly dramatic as she could have imagined. All of the color drained from his face as he took a deep, shocked intake of breath. He quickly stepped closer, pulling her to the side so that they could whisper.

"You threatened to hex us all to oblivion not five days ago," he hissed, pretending to help her out of her jacket to give them an excuse to hesitate. The cold air prickled on her skin, now damp with nervous sweat.

"I was bluffing," she admitted hoarsely, feeling nearly as pale as him now, "I was getting better when I was practicing with Alphard but since I haven't been practicing with him since Slughorn's ball . . ." she trailed off hopelessly.

Abraxas' face had taken a furious turn that surprised her as he muttered darkly, "That bastard. I warned him -"

"You what?" Merissa asked, snapping her head up to look at him.

He avoided her eyes, "Nothing," he replied quickly, "Well, you need to at least try. You'll stick out more by doing nothing."

Merissa disagreed strongly but allowed him to step a few paces back, putting up an unconvincing smile. Her stomach was churning and she desperately hoped she was about to expel a reasonably directed spell and not her dinner. Vividly, she remembered the fateful day in Defense class fourth year when the room had to be evacuated because she set a desk of fire and no one could get it out. The stone walls, at the very least, were not flammable. Leveling her wand to his chest, she refused to let it waver despite her fear.

"Incarnus," she tried, but her arm shook as adrenaline coursed through through her body. The spell did not hit Abraxas but soared behind him and almost hit Nott, who ducked out of the way, looking around wildly as a tangle of binds slapped against the stone behind him.

She winced, looking back to Abraxas for support. He was even more shook that her however, his eyes wide as saucers. Evidently, he had thought she was just being modest about her abilities.

"Come now, Thorpe, I hardly think taking your frustrations out on others is the solution," Riddle said smoothly, coming from seemingly nowhere to guide her to a further corner where her spells could do less damage. She was grateful, that at the very least, all that was going on in the room seemed to be enough so that most had not noticed her misfire. Damage control seemed the best option at this point.

"What are you playing at?" Tom demanded into her ear.

She exhaled slowly as he came around from behind her, his dark eyes ablaze with annoyance. Naturally, he assumed she was doing this as a show, to wreak havoc on the place. Desperately, she wished that were the case.

"I may not have received proper . . . instruction on how to properly focus my erm . . . energeies during a duel," she admitted hesitantly.

His eyes pierced her, "You have no idea do you?" he asked bluntly.

"Well -" she hedged, but her lack of offense was telling and he interrupted her attempts to save face.

"Calm down, Thorpe, you're practically shaking," he commanded, his voice lacked its usual mocking for something of authority. She couldn't help but listen, "I had a feeling that might be the case."

She wanted to grimace and her face made it halfway there before she decided it was too much effort. He always found out eventually, she shouldn't have expected this ruse to last.

"I can't very well have you running around with the defensive skills of a first year, though," he mused, considering her stance as he took a step back.

She glared at him but he hardly noticed, focused entirely on how he might teach her it seemed. He had dissected her before, but this intensity still managed to make her too conscious of how she was holding her body and how he was considering it.

"Alright," he said finally, snapping into motion, "Firstly, I have no idea why you're attempting to use a wand."

He snatched the light stick out of her hands, tucking it away deep in his robes before she could argue. Her mouth hung open for a moment at his audacity.

"Excuse me, that is my wand!" she snapped regaining her ability to move, attempting to steal it back.

He evaded her hands, "You can kill me without it, remember?" he smirked at her furious hiss, "Now listen."

She snapped her jaw shut but kept it flexed so he had no doubt how she felt about the situation. If anything, he just seemed further amused by this.

"You need to play on your strengths," he explained, positioning her hands strategically in his own so that they were pointed towards his chest. His skin was cool, and felt good against hers, particularly as it grew hot from embarrassment as he moved his hands to her waist to adjust the ailment of her stance. She swore his smirk grew bigger still at this.

"There," he said, apparently pleased with her positioning several long moments later. She kept her eyes pointed over his shoulder, her expression stiff until he released her, "Now, try to hex me."

He stepped back and opened his hands in an invitation, his wand held loosely by his side.

Without hesitating, a small part of her still hoping to catch him off guard, she flicked her wrist at him and found with great excitement that it created a jet of red light, just as she had meant it to. He stopped it inches from his chest, where it would have hit squarely. His dark features were lit up momentarily by the shield he lazily flicked up in front of himself.

"Good," he drawled, clearly not as surprised by her success than she or Abraxas were, "Again."

She found herself matching his smirk as she sent another jet flying directly at him.

/_\

Several hours later, when Riddle dismissed them (telling them to head straight to their dormitories so they wouldn't be missed with significant looks at Lestrange and Avery who appeared they still would have liked to go a few more round with each other) Merissa was genuinely disappointed. Never before had she made such strides in just a few hours time. Throughout the hours she made slight adjustments, still unfamiliar with using her hands for defense. Abraxas resumed as her partner after a few exchanges with Riddle, but she noticed he had a propensity for her corner of the room favoring it far more than any other part of the room he was surveying. He liked watching her magic, plainly as she liked watching his.

"I'll walk you to your common room," Abraxas offered his arm to her. Merissa couldn't think of a good excuse not to take it, but her eyes flickered to where Riddle was standing, in front of the mighty inferno, the fire silhouetting his frame in flickering light. She knew she wanted to say something to him but she didn't know what yet so she allowed Abraxas to lead her away and out the door.

They walked in silence for a while, trying to stay unnoticed. There was nothing wrong about them walking the corridors together afterall, it was still an hour from curfew, but Riddle was explicit about no one drawing any attention to the group and for once Merissa didn't question him.

"He's brilliant, isn't he?" Abraxas finally gushed when they began climbing the long spiral staircase of the Ravenclaw tower. The comment seemed to escape him, as if he had been holding it down for a while.

A glance at his face revealed he was wearing a far off smile that she had never seen before. It was almost embarrassing to look at, she felt as if she had just stared at a couple necking. Averting her eyes back down to the steps they were climbing, she shrugged.

"I suppose."

It was an understatement, nearing a lie in its audacity but she couldn't muster anything else at the moment.

"The way he duels - its like he was born for it. You never realize until watching him that he's always poised for it, even when he looks relaxed. He could take us all if he wanted to," Abraxas continued, flourishing his hand for effect.

Merissa had never seen him speak so earnestly and couldn't help but stare a moment before coughing awkwardly and replying, "I don't see the appeal, but yes, I suppose he could."

"But that's just the point," he raved, "He doesn't, because none of us are as big as the plans he has for Hogwarts. The plans he has beyond Hogwarts . . ."

She frowned, realizing she had never heard Riddle speak about what he planned to do after school. He must have intentions, and it didn't surprise her in the least that they were ambitious, but it still struck her as odd he never spoke of it. What a strong hand that would give him in an argument, him aspiring to be some incredibly important leader - aspirations she could only day dream of having, while she was expected to be Abraxas' housewife. How she hated him sometimes for not having a name to live up to. The Muggle surname he detested made him more free than she could ever hope to be.

"Does he have plans for the ministry?" she queried, trying to keep her tone light. After all, it was no one's fault, not even Riddle's, that she was destitute of such opportunities.

"No, much bigger," Abraxas corrected, his eyes still glazed as his mind was clearly far away.

Merissa laughed at him, "There's nothing bigger than the ministry."

"Yeah," he agreed, shaking as his head as he came out of his thoughts, "You're right."

She eyed him suspiciously, stopping on the stairs she that they would not reach the top before she was done interrogating him. Clearly, she had misjudged Abraxas' motivation thus far, "I don't understand," she stated plainly.

Abraxas paused, pursing his lips. He seemed to realize he had said too much as he was suddenly unwilling to say anything. She sighed, raking a hand through her hair as she examined his face. Whatever strange maniac mood he had been in had passed now and she couldn't read his expression anymore.

"Why did you agree to help me?" she asked, "If you think so highly of him. Why would you be willing to betray his trust to learn what his secret?"

Abraxas hesitated and Merissa knew his mind must have been running with a hundred different lies that he could tell her. The one he chose was not his best, "I wanted to help you."

She shook her head, "No, you were looking before I had an inkling. I'm sure of it now. Why did you start looking for answers? He's always had secrets."

Abraxas looked away from her again and she thought he might try to lie again. When he did not, it surprised her, "I think I sensed he was going down a path he wouldn't recover from. And I was right. The chamber. . . with a monster I mean. It could kill people, we don't know how many yet. That's something you don't come back from."

She stared at him, really seeing him. His real dilemma was so clear to her now, she didn't know how she missed it before.

"You want to save him from himself," she spoke softly.

He nodded. She understood him entirely, for the first time and she wished she didn't.

"You can't save bad people, Abraxas," she told him finally, "Not if they don't want to be saved."

* * *

 **Hello dearest readers! I want to apologize, I know my chapters have been a little shorter than usual around the 5,000 word mark instead of 8,000, but there is an absolute monster of a chapter coming up in the next update, so I hope that will make up for it. I am seriously so excited of all is what to come with this story and so appreciative of all of your support, follows, favorites and reviews. You are all THE BEST. I look so forward to posting again in two week but until then!**

 **To my fantastic reviewers:**

Tonari: **Susan is a bit of a nightmare, particularly in these last few chapters. This next chapter unfortunately is not going to be much of an improvement either, but there will eventually be resolution, though I'd rather not say what kind just yet(: She does confess pretty quickly after the chapter you reviewed on, so I'd be interested to see what you think of that if you did get to that part. Alphard has had interest in Merissa for a long time now and Susan certainly notices, which doesn't help how she feels about being inferior either way. Of course, she's not being a good friend in any sense of the word and should be more transparent with Merissa instead of being upset at her. Some smack will certainly be served. Either way, thank you for your review and I'm so glad you've been enjoying the story! It means a lot to have someone enjoy it, even when some characters are being terrible.**

Guest: **You're so welcome for the update! Thank you for your review**!

Guest: **Thank you for saying so! I'm glad people are enjoying this story (of course). I appreciate you reading and taking the time to review!**

Ivet: **I'm so happy to have another Abraxas' supporter to talk with! Haha, yes I know I mentioned it in the past, and in the first few chapter I wrote I was like grr hate this little sucker but the more I wrote I was like okay but his main motivations are that he has a repressed gay crush that given the time and person he can never achieve and he wants to protect his friend because he know how dangerous the situation is for her. Obviously, as a person he's not great, he's biased, and willing to be manipulative for the greater good, but as a character, I mean he does think he is doing what is right and best for the people he cares about and himself. Him and Merissa kind of remind me of ying and yang or something similar, opposites that balance each other out. That was longer than I meant for it to be but I hope some of my ramblings made sense(: Lestrange is physically wuthering away from the stress of having Merissa lord over him and he deserves nothing less, signed and posted, me lol. Alphard is slowly working his way back to friendship, but you make a very good point that Merissa cannot give him what he wants from her. Figuring out whether he can accept that will be the next step. Glad you're still liking the Merissa/Tom interactions. There's plenty in this chapter of course(: hope you liked that. There will be a sort of dichotomy thing between their interactions in the next chapter that I hope will be enjoyable. Thank you, as always for always reviewing and encouraging my writing. I cannot say how much it means! (:**

CarolinaFlint: **Thank you for reading! I always love seeing a review from you. I'm happy the suspense is being built. The wait is to not too far off now, that's all I can really say haha. It definitely will happen, though it may not be in the way you expect. I try to keep Tom as in character as possible, and I have a lot of fun writing his lines and actions(: Always enjoying your updates as well. Thanks again for taking the time to write a review!**

arizontea: **Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. It's always cool to see people's reactions as they go through the chapters and how their feelings developed. Nuanced Slytherin's and non-Slytherin antagonists? Say whaaaat? Haha but in all seriousness, thank you(: I'm glad you liked that ending, it was one of my favorite chapters to write because it does feel like when he finally accepts she's not just a hindrance but someone to consider as a somewhat equal. Such a big step for him, silly as it may seem. There will be much more powerplays to come, I can assure you that, I only hope you continue to enjoy them. Completely agree, Voldemort deserves someone who can actually wreck him, not just someone who gets lucky with magic, as much as I love my boy Harry. Thank you again for reviewing, especially just funny reviews. Really did make my day and encouraged me to get this new chapter out(:**


	32. A Nightmare, a Daydream

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction and no copyright is intended. The Wizarding World and Harry Potter Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. This chapter specifically contains quotes directly from HBP and is labeled for that reason, though obvious everything I post on is fanfiction.**

* * *

February 14, 1943

He was turning, turning, spiraling down. It was a miracle he hadn't hit the bottom yet.

The room around him was a blur, but he knew it so well, he could make out every detail despite that. The walls a shiny tile, each plate a few centimeters across, glittering in a way remistence of snake skin. Gray in the morning light, the sun yet to crest the ridge and saturate them in their true sage color. The stalls were insignificant, thin wood painted a color that couldn't commit to being creamy white or light beige. Largely unmarked, one door had a large heart carved into it, encircling some initials a student must have carved a long time ago. Sinks made of white porcelain grinned at him like misshapen teeth. The mirrors reflected nothing but the horribly ordinary room around him again, flashing faster and faster as he spun more and more. The revolving stopped suddenly and he had to catch himself on one of the basins.

Gasping, he leaned over the porcelain, his nose brushing against the cold metal of the facet as he closed his eyes, willing his stomach not to expel itself. He was tired of these four walls - they seemed to be the only place in Hogwarts he could detest. It was drained him to spend so many hours pouring over its strange energy when it seemed so impossible, so pointless. He wanted to stop, he wanted to be finished with the place. Still, some strong force in the back of his mind refused to let him rest on it. The place called to him as if part of his soul lingered in it. . .

Tom Riddle was jolted awake, still encapsulated in his bed, the hanging closed shut around him as they always were. Nothing was spinning, he had not awoken on the floor of the second floor bathroom like he had often feared he might. The sheets were damp underneath him with freezing sweat and his whole body shivered with the chill. He moved a shaky arm to part his curtains just enough to peer outside. It was still pitch black, the usual light that streamed in from the windows absent. As the lake had frozen its top, it grew dimmer and dimmer still, obstructing time and reason from the place. Above him, the lamps that hung from the ceiling swung slowly as the current of the Black Lake swept over. Without the cover of the thick satin hangings, he could hear the slight rush of the water, mixed with the rhythmic breathing of the rest of his sleeping dorm mates.

Tom stood up, apparently too swiftly for his disoriented mind, as he was nearly pushed into the shallow pool that sat in the middle of the dormitory by a powerful wave of vertigo. Catching himself on his bedpost, he steadied his body, taking deep lungfuls of the cool air to stave off the churning feeling in his gut. Clearly, the sickness hadn't just been a trick of his unconscious mind. And he was truly freezing.

Once he was feeling more secure in his footing, he snatched up the robes lying on top of his trunk and hastily dressed. Though he was still chilled to the bone, at least now he could make the journey without his teeth chattering. There was only one place to go at this time of night.

Once out in the dungeons, he placed a disillusionment charm on himself before working his way out of the dark maze onto the upper levels. It was so second nature to him now, he did not think as he zigzagged through the first and second floor, choosing only the remotest of corridors and hidden stairways as he did so. He didn't know why he bothered. His disillusionment charm was perfect and his extensive time spent in this part of the castel told him that no one patrolled it at such hours. Stil, something beyond compulsion forced him to be especially careful when coming here.

Once he had slid into the room, he found it was how it always was: cold, empty and smelling of old pipes. His contempt for the place grew every time he was pulled into it. Everyday he swore he was in more danger of blasting the heart encircled initials off the stall door. RT + M they read. What kind of initials were just M? Did the girl who carved them not know the last name of the boy she was so enticed by. It irritated him.

Moving past the offending stall, he stared first at the tiled wall, the, to other, and finally to the sinks. He was met with his own sloe eyes in the reflection, his face appearing more gaunt than ever. His dream had gotten that right as well, it seemed.

Frowning, he stepped forward and examined himself in the mirror. His dark waves had been mussed by his fitful sleep, tumbling around his crown. Purplish rings had not dared blemish his light skin, though they felt as if they should be. His lids weighed heavier, giving him a natural appearance of apathy that he had once had to manufacture. In fact, if anything the exhaustion added a little edge to his otherwise impeccable appearance.

He supposed if he had to accept anything from his filthy muggle father, he was glad it was his appearance. During his expedition last summer, he had seen how misshapen the wizarding line of his family had become. Centuries of inbreeding did nothing for the face it seemed, and if his uncle had not spoken parseltongue to him, it would have been easier to believe he was the muggle and not the handsome Tom Riddle Senior.

It had taken three year of searching through the school records, trophy cases, interviewing every faculty member he could reach - except Dumbledore, a source he had long ago decided against - and even asking some of his peers, all of which knew much of pureblood history, for him to accept that his father was not a who he had inherited his magical blood from. The alternative was difficult for him to reconcile, the matron of the orphanages description of his mother far from favorable. _Couldn't have been a day older than twenty, but the streets had worn her down. Plain woman, died less than an hour after having you. Downright tragic._ After a rather lengthy period of denial, he began his search again, his only clues his ability to speak Parseltongue, and his middle name "Marvolo", named for his grandfather.

Tom remembered his naive excitement the day he found that same name, Marvolo, in the index of an incredibly ancient book of records. It traced the lines of only the oldest pureblood lines. Malfoy, Black, Thorpe and Prince were all included, the families he so coveted the lineage of. Practically breaking the binding in excitement, he turned to the section the index had indicated. When he reached it he stared at the house name for what must have been nearly ten minutes. He could have stared much longer if he had allowed himself to, the closest experience to pure joy he had ever felt manifesting.

 _Slytherin_ was the line Marvolo descended from, and it was that that moment that he convinced himself no one could ever question his authority ever again. The section was by far the longest in the book and it took him quite a while to reach the end of it. He knew one thing: that the longer the line, the more wealthy they seemed to be. With each yellowed page he flipped through, still carrying his family name, he added another stack of galleons to an imaginary vault, his birthright. By the time he reached his great - great - grandfather's generation he was nearly feverish, far too thrilled to feel any disappointment as the line dwindled to a single surname: Gaunt.

The Gaunt line thinned down quickly, cousin marrying cousin and ending childless. Murder also seemed to be a common theme, brother killing brother, blamed on insanity. The second to last entry nearly sent his pounding heart from his chest. _Marvolo Gaunt_ , it read, intertwining his line with Leeza Gaunt, his first cousin. Marvolo was not a common name - it couldn't be a coincidence. This was his grandfather.

But Tom's glee was stunted there, because no sign of _Riddle_ was anywhere on the page. Marvolo and Leeza had only three children it seemed. The eldest died shortly after his seventeenth birthday leaving two surviving children, Merope and Morfin Gaunt. There was no mention of his father or, much more importantly, _himself._

He shook his head, not believing the description under his supposed mother's name. It took three re-reads to digest the words.

 _Merope Gaunt: unregistered squib_.

Cursing, he slammed the book shut, his fury overtaking his joy. Yes, he was from an ancient and powerful lineage, making him more than deserving of his place among his peers, but his mother had been a considered a squib and his father a muggle, and that was almost worse than not knowing at all. How dare she, this Merope, break the oldest pureblood house, tarnishing it with a muggle. He thought he might catch the book on fire in his fury.

Still, he reassured himself, gazing at the dusty cover again, there no record of anything after, not even his birth. For all he knew, they could all still be alive, waiting for him or thinking him dead. Even if his mother _was_ dead, as he had been lead to believe, his uncle and grandfather could easily still be alive. The more he thought about, the more he was sure it must be just that.

Yes, he thought desperately, this was the only explanation. The last remaining heir of the Slytherin line would not have been abandoned to muggles by anything less than tragic accident. By the time Tom left the orphanage to find the Gaunt's the following summer, he had constructed all sorts of expectations for his new family. He had never been to a grand house, but he saw pictures of them in books and imagined wizarding houses had to be twice as wonderful. Their riches must be spilling out the windows, all well bred and dignified purebloods, the lot of them, who would sob at the sight of him, their lost heir.

His disappointment had been unfathomable when he apparated in front of a old shack at the end of a dirt road, so overgrown with bramble that he nearly missed it. Nature seemed to be attempting to pull the place back down into the earth, the boards straining against the weight of the vegetation, splintered in several places and rotting in the rest. The roof seemed to have once been covered in tile, but it was all but eroded away now, the crumbling rock discarded on the edges of the hovel and covered in soil, leaving the bones of the house exposed to the elements.

Part of Tom still reasoned it must be a mistake, because he was sure the last remaining heirs to the mighty Slytherin line would reside in such squallor. But he could feel the magic radiating off of the place so he strode down the narrow path from the lane, impeded some by the brier. He wondered if anyone who lived in this place could possibly know magic at all, for the roof and the rot could all be fixed with simple spells, though he tried not to dwell on the thought. He knocked on the door (ignoring the unpleasant stickiness), finding that it swung open, unlocked.

The place seemed uninhabited at first, the grim so profound that surely only wild animals would live inside. Everything in the hovel was a vague brown color, muted by the layers of dirt and dust that hung to everything like dew to grass in the morning. The house seemed to be only one room, a kitchen and living room combined with a mildew-infested bed stuck into the corner. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, low enough that Tom's tall frame brushed against them, as if the place sooke to make anyone who entered as filthy as it was. Sneering, his pushed them from his face. The strong scent of alcohol hung in the air, the only sign of human activity in the place at all. A creature, so matted in dirt and hair that it almost blended in with the walls, stirred as the door banged shut behind him.

"YOU!" it cried, jumping to its feet and revealing it was indeed a man, and a living one at that, "YOU!" the man repeated brandishing a knife in one hand and his wand in the other at Tom.

He began to charge towards him, but Tom didn't move an inch, " _Stop_ ," he commanded in Parseltongue.

The man staggered it a halt. His eyes were only visible underneath his unkempt hair and dirt when the bulged as they did now.

" _You speak it?_ " he croaked.

Now that the man was closer Tom could smell not only alcohol but of sweat, blood and other excrements. If it weren't for his use of Parseltongue, Tom would have sworn this man was a muggle vagrant, and a particularly unkempt one at that.

" _Yes, I speak it_ ," he said impatiently. His eyes trained around the room as he stepped further inside. He saw no one else, only more grim, " _Where's Marvolo?_ "

" _Dead_ ," the man replied, " _Died years ago, didn't he?_ "

Tom frowned. Apparently, the record he had found had not be updated recently. It made sense, his mother was supposed to be dead as well. Now it seemed his hopes of any family, and indeed anything at all from this time diminished. He could feel the disappointment welling in his chest, pooling in his stomach. It was icy and chilled him the core.

" _Then who are you?_ " Tom barked back. A servant, he desperately hoped, who would show him to the main house, hidden behind this one by magic. Even if it was empty, something, anything would be better than accepting this was his family home. He was disappointed for the second time today.

" _I'm Morfin, ain't I?"_

Tom winced internerally. He so wished for this dreg not to be his uncle.

" _Marvolo's son?"_ he asked, to be sure.

"' _Course I am, then . . ."_

The man pushed the jungle of hair from his eyes to get a better look at Tom, revealing a dirty and misshapen face. His eyes pointed in different directions, neither looking directly at Tom, his nose looked like it had been broken and pushed into his face. The alcohol seemed to have sustained him, but just barely. The deep bruises under his eyes suggested he had not slept soundly in weeks. The ring on Morfin's hand was the only sign of his ancestry, a heavy silver circuit with a large black stone inset that appeared in danger of falling off the man's waning finger. Tom could recognize a family ring anywhere, having spent so much time coveting the one's Malfoy, Lestrange and even Black wore. They were the symbols of elitism he could never hope to achieve.

" _I thought you was that Muggle,"_ whispered Morfin finally, making Tom's eyes flick back to his deformed face, " _You look mighty like that Muggle."_

" _What Muggle?"_

Tom could feel the seeping disappointment harder into fury. It was this muggles fault he could claim full pureblood ancestry, even when attached to these dregs. He had nothing because of his. He could not rightfully own a family ring, nor claim a wizarding name.

" _That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way,"_ Morfin grumbled and spat on the floor between them. Tom didn't take a step back, but he wanted to, " _You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in e'? He's older'n you, now I think on it . . ."_

Tom's mind was racing, no doubt who this Muggle was. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, becoming difficult to hear his uncle over it. Inside his pocket he flexed his hand, feeling like hitting something. His fury was sidetracked for a moment when Morfin staggered forward a step, clutching the table to keep his drunkard self upright. Tom's lip went up inadvertently.

" _He come back, see,"_ Morfin explained, missing the shift in Tom's demeanor, his beady eyes unfocused and drifting around the grimy room.

How incredibly convenient, Tom thought. He wouldn't even need to aparate there.

" _Riddle came back?"_ he repeated.

" _Are, he left her and serve her right, marrying filth!"_ Tom was truly unsure whether he was more glad to not be a bastard or horrified at having a Muggle marrying into a formerly pureblood line. He hardly registered when Morfin spat on the floor again and it was quickly lost to the dirt and bottles, " _Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"_

Tom wondered if the words were this man's own now or if he was reliving what Marvolo must have said, coming home to find both his daughter and family heirlooms stolen from him. That would be his next conquest, finding that locket, but there was more business he had in Little Hangleton before he left.

Morfin did not seem to notice, or care that Tom was not listening anymore, flying into a rage, " _Dishonored us, she did, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over innit . . . It's over . . ."_

Morfin staggered forward and Tom took the opportunity to stun him, silently, with his wand pressed up against the filthy man's abdomen. The man slumped to the ground, unconscious.

" _I can't have you asking that,"_ he murmured over him, pulling the ring from his finger. Tom had decided from the first mention of his father that this man would have to take the fall for Tom Riddle Senior's murder. An unfortunate, but necessary sacrifice, as he would be his last remaining relative, wizard or otherwise.

" _Obliviate,"_ he muttered, pressing the tip of his wand to Morfins temple, carefully selecting the memory of the past few minutes to erase. He wasn't as meticulous as he might have been with someone else. It seemed unlikely anyone would question which wizard murdered the muggle Morfin hated across the way. Tom's plan had been set in motion the moment he realize Morfin was willing to kill Tom Riddle Sr. He felt more than disappointment in this place though, he felt pure rage. This is how wizards, with the ability to create anything, could live? While the fine house across the way was occupied by traitors muggles? He wouldn't allow it to be, the same way he wouldn't let any reminder of his half blood status survive.

It had been rather strange to kill a man who resembled himself so closely, but Tom had hardly hesitated. Seeing an older, less perfect version of himself had been enough, but the man's reaction to when both of his parents lay dead at his feet had been what truly sealed his fate.

"Who are you?" Tom Riddle Sr. had cried out, backing into the corner away from his now lifeless parents. His mother, Mary, was now slumped in her seat, afternoon tea spilled down her front in an ugly brown stain, his father, Thomas, all but untouched other than the fact that he was dead.

"Do you not recognize your own son?" Tom asked calmly, his wand pointed straight at the man's heart.

He could have, should have killed him then and there, saved himself the humiliation of spending more than a split second in the muggle's presence. The house was grand, but utterly ordinary, just like his soon to be dead father. He hated both of his parent's homes it seemed, but this one he felt only pure malice for. Everything here was the best Muggle money could buy, and it all was far more disgusting to him than even the lowest of wizarding contraption. This house, lofty as it may be, was far filthier to Tom than the shack his uncle resided in.

The man shook, Tom's own black eyes looking back at him widened with a helpless fear he despised. Not only was he from a muggle, but a coward as well. That much should have been clear to Tom when he had learned this man abandoned his mother, six months pregnant with him, in the streets, but he had hoped there had been some grand misunderstanding, just as he had for the rest. Now, it was clear to him that it was not.

"She wasn't natural, your mother," the older man pleaded, tears streaming down his face, "I tried to love her for a time, and I think I did - it was all very confusing. She bewitched me. But I couldn't stay! I was the squires son, I couldn't run off with some destitute tramp."

"She did bewitch you, because she was a witch, the mere fact making her life worth forty of yours. Last of the pure line of Slytherin, sullied by your disgusting muggle blood."

The words were not his own but he believed them with great vigor as they escaped his lips, watching the man shake further still.

"Please, I don't know what you are saying," the Tom Riddle Sr. sobbed, "Let me live, take whatever you want."

He was like a mouse caught in a pedal trap, death was imminent but it struggled so. It captivated him to watch, how much he wished to live. Magical or muggle, it's what everyone wanted and what no one could have forever.

"Did you know when you left? That she was pregnant?"

The question escaped him, as much as he knew he shouldn't care.

"Yes," the man's voice quavered in fear but he seemed unable to lie. Not that it would have made a difference.

" _Avada kedavra_."

Tom cried the spell for the third time that day and his father slumped at his feet, dead.

Death was not as messy as books had him believe. Here were three perfectly intact bodies, the only mess coming from the misfortune of Mrs. Riddle being in the middle of a sip of tea when her grandson had killed her. They all looked rather pristine, in fact, their dinner clothes still freshly pressed, not a crumb of food yet soiling them.

"Thank you for the invitation, father. I will help myself," he sneered at the body, snatching the expensive leather watch off Mr. Riddles wrist, his father's heavy riding coat off a nearby chair and an opal necklace off Mrs. Riddle's neck. Pleased with his work, he took his treasures close in hand and disapparated back to London.

The terror in Tom Riddle Senior's eyes as he died had been proof enough to Tom that he was Riddle only in outward appearance, and in that way he was pleased. He knew his eyes would never widened in fear like that as he narrowed them at his somewhat harrowed appearance in the sink mirror, pushing his waves around until he liked the way they were arranged. Surely, if he resembled someone like Morfin, he wouldn't have gotten away with murder so easily.

/_\

As Merissa turned in bed, still mostly asleep, she began to smell it. They must have been there a while if the scent was already penetrating through her thick hangings. She smiled groggily, pushing the heavy satin back, and revealing that her bedside table and desk had been transformed to look like a floral shop. Their were bouquets overflowing onto the floor, in every color too. Deep ruby roses, bright cerulean hyacinth and soft pink lilies were all gleaming in the morning light. The scent was overwhelming and Merissa suspected they had been charmed to be so. Certainly, the glittering quality of them must have been.

"We have gifts," she murmured to the black cat coiled near the crook of her neck. Charles cracked an onyx eye open at her but evidently didn't find the flowers interesting enough to shred yet. Chucking quietly, Merissa propped herself up on her elbows, body still tucked under her covers, determined not to subject her feet to the freezing floorboard until absolutely necessary.

All of the assortments on her bedside table and the floor around it were from Abraxas she quickly discovered, searching through the flowers for the notes in each. He (or more likely his mother) had written romantic greetings on the heavy parchment notes hidden in the stems of the flowers. When she had sorted through all the bouquets she could reach, she she tiptoed to her desk to discover what had been left for her there. Spotting a chocolate frog, she began nibbling on it as she fished the note from a bunch of seven roses. When she read Alphard's loopy signature at the bottom she felt equal pull to smile and frown, settling to place the note back down on her desk and tried to ignore it.

In addition to the roses from Alphard, on her desk were cheerful sunflowers from Druella, an elaborate collection of flowers from Nott (from which she carefully crumpled up the note from and tossed it in her trash, because she could only imagine Abraxa's expression if he saw it) and a small bunch of queen of the night tulips who's sender took no credit for.

Smiling, she began arranging them so they would all fit on her desk, or at least not block the way from her bed to her wardrobe. She had just managed to do this, and was deciding what to wear when a loud scoff came from several beds down. Glancing behind herself in the mirror, Merissa found it had come from Susan. The taller girl was in her robe and slippers, arms crossed, glaring at Merissa's desk. Her own was empty except for her schoolwork.

"Look at you," she sneered nastily, "Is each one from a different man? I lose track with you."

"Hilarious," Merissa sighed, clasping her necklace from Riddle around her neck. It was more habit than anything to wear it now, though she admitted it felt rather like wearing the thumb bones of an enemy around her neck and she liked that too.

"It was a real question, Thorpe," Susan drilled, sauntering over, and snatching up a card at random, "Oh, this is from Abraxas at least."

"Put that down," Merissa snapped, turning from the mirror and dropping the ribbon she had been tying her hair up in on the floor. Susan had moved onto the bunch of roses Merissa least wanted her to see.

"This one isn't!" Susan cried, brandishing Alphard's card triumphantly, " _Hope you have a good love day. Give Abraxas a smooch for me,_ " she read. Her tawny eyes flashed up, narrowed like a cat's in accusation. She seemed intent on being angry, "How romantic."

"I've heard more romantic things from your mother," Merissa retorted, pushing Susan away, which was quite difficult given their difference in size, "I've heard more romantic things from _my_ mother."

"Don't lie to me," Susan shrieked, suddenly pointing her wand at Merissa's chest, "Alphard suddenly won't speak to me and you two are chummy again!"

"He probably won't talk to you because you're _insane,_ " Merissa hissed, flicking Susan's wand away with her wrist. The tawny-eyed girl made a sound like a white-hot poker being immersed in ice water. Merissa glared at her steadily.

Abby was now peeking from behind her curtains, a distinct 'o' of her mouth visible even in the meager light. Mary had bolted out of bed when Susan had yelled, and now was staring, wand half-raised and entirely tangled in her hangings.

"Maybe, Thorpe," Susan bit, straightening her back to sneer down at her, "But I don't have to worry about anyone caring about that do I? Imagine if the press heard about how you're flying off the handle about Riddle one moment and then friends the next. Randomly having bouts of magic you can't control, Seems unstable to me. _Crazy_ even."

Merissa's jaw dropped at the threat. Before she could say anything, Susan had snatched clothes from her wardrobe and departed into the adjoining lavatory, door slamming behind her.. Merissa stared after her for a moment, then shook her head and finished dressing herself, stricken expression hidden by her bed hangings as she changed.

She came out tucking a blush hued blouse tucked into a white lace skirt. She finished pulling her hair back with a ribbon, having been interrupted earlier. It was the type of outfit her mother was always harping on her to wear, so she generally avoided it out of principle. Today, however she knew it would rake in the compliments, which would bother Susan to no end.

She smirked, tossing back her ponytail as she exited, everyone else still scrambling to get ready. Abraxas was waiting for her outside the common room, fiddling with a small box.

"You look splendid," he said at once, almost as a knee jerk reaction.

Merissa smiled gently. It was rather confusing, acting as they always did around others and another way entirely on their own. Not having to pretend to be attracted to her seemed bizarre to him still. He continued fiddling with the box in his hands as they began down the spiral staircase.

"That's not another ring, is it?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at it.

"No," he almost allowed himself to laugh, keeping pace with her as she hurried down the stairs. His expression dropped somewhat as he added, "Though I did receive a rather lengthy letter from my father that mentioned your parents visited last week for tea and discussed when I'm to properly ask you. My mother was all but hysterical about the matter, as usual."

"Ah," Merissa replied. A rather well known secret that his mother had always wanted a daughter, but after their first was a son, Mr. Malfoy had insisted there was no reason to continue with anymore children. As a result, Mrs. Malfoy had doted on Merissa from the moment they became betrothed, and indeed no one could match her zeal for the wedding as it would mean she would finally have the daughter she craved. Merissa pretended not to notice, as Abraxas seemed wounded by it, at times.

"What is it then?" she asked.

"It's a gift for my mother, actually. Her birthday is in a few days. I need to send it before we go Hogsmeade today."

"I'll have to order her some flowers then, since I'm sure she ordered the lovely ones that came to my room this morning," she noted. He nodded, unabashed and she continued, "That is convenient though, as I also have an important package to send today," she steered him away from the Great Hall and towards the steps that lead to the dungeons.

"You're not bringing me to say hello to Alphard, are you?" Abraxas asked rather skeptically. Merissa frowned, wondering if Alphard had said something to him about sending her something. The question seemed rather odd otherwise.

"No, we're not," she shrugged.

"Good," Abraxas nodded, "Say what you like, I will never be fond of him. Manners of a troll, you'd never know he came from a decent family."

Merissa understood his purpose for bringing up Alphard now and waited a beat, knowing already what he would slip into his self-created conversational window, "Especially compared to someone like Riddle. No instruction, but could pass as a duke."

It was really a wonder she hadn't realized how deep his feeling ran earlier.

"Riddle's manners are impeccable when he's not torturing people or killing small animals, whatever else he does in his free time," she agreed rather forcefully.

Abraxas scoffed, "He doesn't-" he stopped and Merissa wondered if he was genuinely weighing on what the chances were that Riddle had killed some small animals in his life. Apparently, he didn't like the odds of that because he scoffed again and defended, "Still, given his upbringing their are bound to be imperfections."

"Honestly, Abraxas," she said impatiently, turning on her heel to frown up at him, "How bad could Riddle's aunt or whoever be?"

"His aunt?" Abraxas repeated.

"Well, he said all his immediate family is dead, no one to carry on the Gaunt name, etc, etc," she explained, flicking her hand dismissively, as they passed a curious looking gargoyle, "I assumed he was raised by a distance aunt or uncle or something. He's awfully dramatic about the whole thing."

Abraxas was staring at her incredulously, "What?" she demanded.

"Merlin, Re," Abraxas lamented, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, "It is not just his immediate family is dead. All of them are dead, everyone even remotely related. He lives in a Muggle orphanage during the summer, where he grew up. That's why he's always so thin the the beginning of the year."

Merissa dropped her eyes in embarrassment, "I didn't know," she mumbled, suddenly feeling very bad for no good reason.

She recalled the looks he had given her when she was starving herself and understood his animosity now. Enough of her last summer had been spent wandering the streets of big cities, attempting to escape the stuffy villas her parents chose to vacation in. The conditions some were living in had horrified her and she distinctly remembered matchstick thin muggle children, begging for scraps of food. Imaging someone as prideful as Tom Riddle in any similar situation seemed so horribly wrong.

"What are we doing down here then?" Abraxas asked, glancing sidelong at her expression. She could spot his concern a mile off and she pushed the thoughts down.

"We're going to get my potions from Slughorn's. They should be all done, justed need to bottle them up and send some to the Snevel's Brothers, among other contacts potions contacts he put me in touch with," she told him, attempting to force the pleasant mood she had woken up with back into existence. She had no reason to feel badly about either conversations she had this morning.

She was not allowed to dwell on these feelings though, as they were greeted by a sleepy Slughorn. His enthusiasm was strong enough for the lot of them after she asked if she could collect her potions. Nearly bouncing with glee, their professor lead them to the corner of his office.

"Never have I seen such a skillful brewer," he told Abraxas as Merissa conjured up flasks to siphon her creations into, She smirked widely, her back to them as he continued to gush, "Her first attempt at invention too - although certainly to be improved upon - was remarkable. You'll be wanting to keep all the extra of that felix felicis I'm sure, Miss Thorpe," he laughed heartily at his own joke.

"Yes sir," she agreed politely, no intention of letting on to either of them the plans she had for the elixir, "I'd offer some to Abraxas, but he seems to have all the luck I could ever hope for. Has he told you of the position in my father's small group of confidants?"

"So the rumors are true!" Slughorn gasped, and nearly jumped for joy, his beady eyes now locked on Abraxas, "I won't tell a soul, of course, but what wonderful news. Do you think treasury will be your stopping point, m'boy? So early to reach a high point in one's life, but my, what a high point."

Abraxas beamed, "I have many ambitions sir. I can only hope I live long enough to fulfill them all. For example, when Merissa and I were summering in Italy I became inspired by their excellent delegation in their Improper Use of Magic Department. For example, when a man was drowned by a malfunctioning self-navigating gondolier they did no hesitate to refer it to their leading expert on the topic. . ."

Merissa let his voice fade out as she worked with her potions. She was pleased she had been able to shift the focus from herself for a moment, now under no obligation to listen to a word. It mattered more to Abraxas anyways, who despite his accomplishments often needed reassurances. People's opinions of him were of highest priority.

The soft hum of their conversation in the background, Merissa immersed herself in her work, the steam and scents of her potions clearing her mind, offering serenity. These were her children, she had labored over them for months, and now they had turned out as beautiful as she could have ever hoped. When she had finished, she carefully stode away her samples in her robes. Entwining her fingers with Abraxas' she waited patiently as Slughorn finished stroking his ego, only having to smile slightly to appease them, just as she knew she would.

After a a few minutes of this, Slughorn excused himself, saying he simply couldn't put off sending his Valentine's any longer and they bid them goodbye. The couple walked back to the Great Hall, which was now crowded and noisy. Nearly everyone was in high spirits, excited to visit the Hogsmeade and looking forward to the Easter holidays.

Merissa was a glaring exception to this. Her letter in return to her mother's had been a essentially a long list of elaborate excuses to why she should stay at Hogwarts over the holiday instead of joining her family and the Malfoy's at the Black residence. Entirely predictably, she had received back a letter that was deaf to her grievances. Instead it demanded Merissa's presence at home during the break, claiming it was to celebrate her birthday with her early. She saw through this ruse though, knowing she would come home not to cake, but instead to anger.

She allowed herself to be comforted the moment though, Druella quickly falling in step with them as they entered the Great Hall, fawning over her hair, shoes, skirt and whatever else she could spot.

"Is that Elizabethan lace?" she asked, admiring it as Merissa sat down on the bench, giving her the first chance to speak with a break of her chattering.

"I think so," Merissa smiled back, adjusting the sheath it so it covered her knees, "My mother got it for me while she was in Paris with father for their anniversary. Andolo Selwyn designed it, as I understand."

Merissa suddenly stopped, her eyes suddenly flickering to Riddle, the new information about his life away from Hogwarts plaguing her now. How childish and shallow she must seem to him. He blinked back at her, expressionless, daring her to say anything so she turned back to Druella, swallowing drily.

"Where ever did you get that necklace though?" Druella continued, either not noticing the exchange or finding it dull compared to her fashion interrogation.

"Abraxas of course," Merissa laughed as lightly as she could, touching the small lump under her collar that was her ring, "I've already told you that story."

"No, I meant the small blue one. Is that lapis lazuli? Goes so well with your eyes. Gorgeous," she hummed, "Is it a Torrini?"

"It is," said the male Rosier twin darkly, looking at the necklace that had been stolen from him. His eyes widened as several people nearby gave him strange looks, "Not that I gave it to her. Just a fan of Torrini's work."

"Well, who did then?" Druella asked, rolling her eyes at her brother.

"A friend," Merissa said, looking unsurely at Abraxas. She wanted to gauge Riddles reaction to this, but though looking directly at him would raise too much suspicion. From what she could see, he looked stiff, which was really his resting state and told her little. Alphard, who had not said a word yet frowned at the necklace as if noticing it for the first time. Merissa decidedly avoided his eyes.

"Good friends," Druella went on without hesitating, "Interestingly enough, I just picked out some potential presents for your birthday. That's why I'm fishing."

"You don't have to get me anything Druella," she insisted quickly, "I missed yours already, anyways."

"Merissa, while having many talents, has never learned how to accept gifts with grace," Abraxas told Druella over Merissa, "Don't take it personally Rosier, she'll love it regardless."

Merissa frowned, good mood deflated now that she was sure Riddle would scold her later and she would spend her birthday feeling guilty about not appreciating Druella. She moodily began pushing around the food Abraxas had forced onto her plate.

"Merlin, stop moping Re," Alphard groaned, reaching over the table and using his index fingers to move the corners of her mouth into a comical 'u' shape, "There we go."

She pulled away, but smiling on her own now, "Shut it, Black. I'll mope all I want, and look better than you doing it."

"My heart," he lamented, grasping his chest as he leaned over that table, making Druella laugh, "Tell my wife I-"

"Alright," Abraxas interrupted, coming to his feet, "I'm heading to the village. Mer, are you coming?"

He had never been amused by Alphard, and it seemed unlikely he would ever budge a smile for his theatertics. His stout refusal to show amusement would never fail to amuse Merissa, at least.

"Of course my love," she agreed sappily, throwing Alphard a dazzling smile over her shoulder as they went. Nott was now left sitting with him, looking displeased at being ignored.

They made the ascent to the owlery before departing to Hogsmeade, Abraxas silent all the way. Merissa watched him as he stroked his great grey owl before tying the box for his mother to his leg and sending him off. He stayed in the window, the back of his white-blond head facing her as he surveyed the grounds below them, waiting for her to send her package. Merissa took much longer selecting her owl, as she did not have one of her own. All of the school barn owls looked rather tired, so she finally settled for stealing Joseph's dark horned owl. She had to bribe it with pellets before it would allow her to attach her sack of potions samples and a letter to go with.

"I need to make a good impression," she defended to the scrutiny of Abraxas' brow, "These little school owls don't really say much."

"I'm sure a stolen owl will tell them everything they need to know about you," he agreed, snorting. She smirked, pulling out a quill. She liked Abraxas best when he acted uninhibited with concerns of who might overhear him.

"What are you doing now though?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Sending a note to my florist," she replied, scribbling onto a spare piece of parchment, "To send your mother his finest blue hydrangeas, from me."

"Why do you need to specify?" he asked, selecting a sturdy looking school owl for her, "Who don't you send his finest to?"

" _My_ mother," she quipped shortly, folding the parchment up and handing it to him to attach to the owl. He didn't hide his grin very well.

As they made it outside, Merissa swung their interlocked hands as they walked, their boots sloshing the slush, a casualty of the war raging between the ice of winter and the rain of spring. Flowers were still hiding underground, dreaming of warmer winds, but tiny bits of vibrant green grass were beginning to push through the dead vegetation of last season. When the soles of their shoes crushed them, they sprung back up like they were made of rubber. Abraxas remained stoic for the first half of their walk, but as they were passing through the gates he finally vocalized his ruminating.

"It's cute I suppose, even if I don't think it suits you," Abraxas said, watching her skip over a puddle.

"What is?" she asked, "And please don't say my outfit and make me pretend to care about lace again."

"No, you and Alphard," he said, making her miss a step and nearly fall.

"What about us?" she asked once Abraxas had helped her back up. She would rather have fallen into the mud than continue this conversation, and if it wasn't for his firm hand on her arm, she might have tried to topple over again.

"Oh please, Mer," he dismissed her feign at ignorance, shaking his head, "He's fancied you for years and you've started noticing him recently, to his absolute delight."

"It's rather difficult to ignore someone when they make a point to snog you unexpectedly," she grumbled. Especially since he had began - a rather ended - things with Susan, she had been avoiding the subject, even in her own mind.

"Just once," she reminded him, because he was looking rather smug, as if he had just proven a point to himself.

"I'm sure he wouldn't try it again, especially given how I reacted last time," she prattled on, hoping to dissolve his knowing air, "I mean, he understood I didn't enjoy myself at all, even disregarding how inappropriate it was. I stopped him out of more than politeness to you - honestly at the time it would have felt good to spite you, no offense. He really can't expect anything of me, even if he's used to girl's recognizing that he's nice to look at -"

She squinted at Abraxas, ending her blabbering, suspecting he knew she would just do that. He still appeared rather self-satisfied, his grey eyes laughing as he gazed forward at nothing in particular.

"What are you on about Abraxas Malfoy?" she demanded, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Nothing, what are you on about?" he asked back, broad smile crossing his face as he met her expression.

Merissa shut her mouth into a hard line and let him lead her the rest of the way to Hogsmeade. There was nothing more to say on the topic, either way. Alphard was her friend, and she enjoyed his company, and that was it.

"No reporters in sight, bloody suspicious," Abraxas observed quietly, as if he was worried they would suddenly spring out from behind a waste bin, which actually wasn't that ridiculous of a thought.

"Probably camped out in front of Madam Puddifoot's," she snorted, "As if, come on," she pulled him to the door of The Three Broomsticks.

They were seated immediately at a small table near the window, two butterbeers placed on the table before they could order them. They were quite popular with the staff here after their generous tips at the end of Merissa's party, as well as Abraxas' standing relationship with the owner.

Merissa sipped her butterbeer, looking around at the nearby tables. A good amount of people appeared to be here on slightly uncomfortable first dates, the forced laughter being the pervading sound throughout the room. Hornby and Lestrange were arguing a few tables away, loud enough for Merissa to tell they were angry but not loud enough to make out the words. A large group of Slytherin boys were at a table with Riddle across the room, missing out on dates apparently well worth the company. Still, it was a vast improvement to the stuffy air and watery tea of Puddifoot's. Abraxas and her had gone there on one of their first dates, and it was not a fond memory for either party.

"I'll be back," Abraxas said, rising, "Bathroom."

She nodded at him, choosing to look out on the busy street was she waited. A small booth had popped up in the street, selling roses and overstuffed teddy bears to frantic looking men. A middle aged wizard was shelling over some silver sickles to the worker, taking one of the larger baskets that included some mead and a dog-sized bear that sang sappy songs when it was hugged.

"Good morning, Merissa," a low voice spoke, grabbing her attention.

Andrew Nott was leaning over the table from her in Abraxas' vacant spot, looking less confident than normal. His eyes shifted around them, as if taking in inventory of who might be watching. The timing was highly suspect and she wondered if he had been waiting until Abraxas left.

"Hello, Andrew," she greeted, "Crowded today isn't it? You just missed Ab."

"I know," he said earnestly, taking his seat enclosing her hands into his, making her pull back, laughing uncomfortably. He looked disappointed, but continued, leaning over the table at her, as if they were in some great confidence,"I just wanted to make sure you got my bouquet."

"Yes," she told him, shifting uneasily. She couldn't exactly spurn him openly like this without attracting attention, but she very much wanted him to leave. Riddle's eyes were on his back and it made her incredibly nervous, "The couplet was lovely. I didn't know you wrote poetry."

"I had it commissioned," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "I'm glad you liked it though. I also wanted to make sure you weren't planning on telling Malfoy. I'm sure you understand."

She had a feeling this was the real reason he had come over and she felt slightly disgusted, "I certainly see no reason to," she smiled saccharinely.

"Thank you Mer, I appreciate you not telling anyone yet," he said, capturing her hand and kissing it, before she could oppose.

"Nothing to tell," she said, emphasizing each word in hopes he would catch on, but he simply winked at her, heading back to his table.

Her cheeks were on fire and she could just tell Riddle was still watching. She yanked strip of satin that was holding back her hair out and began running her fingers through her hair, feeling slightly violated, and very grateful when Abraxas returned.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, a familiar crease forming between his eyebrows as he took his seat. She vaguely wondered if she would be the reason he got his first wrinkle.

"Just Lestrange and Hornby's mood swings are putting me on edge," she lied easily, pulling her hair back into the light ribbon. The last thing she wanted now was Abraxas's indignation to bring more attention.

"Agreed," he said, curling his lip at the couple, now openly snogging at their table. Lestrange's large hands were yanking her platinum hair back, their tongues visibly interlocking. Merissa took a deep drink, trying to forget how disgusting his breath had felt on her when he, Mulciber and Travers had cornered her. Some secrets were pushed down deeper than others.

They drank their second round of drinks in silence, both content with people watching rather than talking. A pretty girl with dark curls, the same color as Merissa's but tighter wound, was practically skipping down the lane, holding hands with Charlus Potter. They were both laughing, looking more than happy with their luck on a date on this important day. Charlus was holding an overstuffed bag from Honeydukes, clearly having spent the morning so far picking out sweets. She had seen them together on several occasions, and wondered what Myrtle thought of her crush's girlfriend. She smiled as they began splashing the early spring puddles at each other

"Jeepers!" Merissa hissed, suddenly sliding below the table.

"What in Merlin's name . . ." he asked, before also spotting the blue black head of hair bobbing towards them outside. Clarence Day was visiting Hogsmeade today.

Abraxas surprised her by abandoning his pride and concern of when the floor had last been cleaned, and ducking under the table to join her.

"What do we do?" she asked, realizing this must be a serious situation if he was willing to kneel in spilled butterbeer to evade the columnist.

"Well, we certainly don't want him to get pictures of us under here. Maybe he won't come inside-"

Abraxas was cut off by a breath of cold air as the door opened and they saw the expensive bright cerulean polished shoes walked in, brushing under well tailored slacks.

"Okay," he whispered, "That is unfortunate. But we can still work around it. On three I'm going to put a sickle on the table for our drinks. Then you are going to go out on your own, while I distract him. I'll find you later."

"Are you sure?" she whispered, "He's a horror, honestly."

"Yes, I handle him much better," he insisted. Merissa couldn't argue with that, "Just get out and stay off High Street."

She nodded as he began counting, "One . . two . . three!"

She sailed out the door as Abraxas tossed silver pieces onto the table. She thought she saw Clarence Day's dark head move towards the door as she left, but Abraxas cut off his view by sitting down next to him and shaking his hand.

A breath of relief escaped her as she made it to a side street, before an arm grabbed her from behind. She spun, thinking she was caught, but instead it was only Alphard, appearing concerned. Relaxing again, she leaned against the brick wall that was the side of a pet store, feeling safe in this untrafficed alley, contradictory as it seemed.

"Hey Al," she greeted, "You scared me."

"I noticed," he told her, raising his eyebrows, "I saw you run out of The Three Broomsticks. Is Clarence Day stalking you now?"

"Something like that," she admittedly, now letting her forehead head rest against the cool wall. It felt good on her flushed skin, "I insulted him off a couple weeks ago. Been waiting for the other shoe to drop since."

"You insulted him?" he asked. Unlike Abraxas, who was simply mortified at her behavior, Alphard looked rather impressed at her gall. He always was.

"I called him a climbing half blood . . . or something like that," she admitted sheepishly. Though Alphard had no reason to be offended by this on the basis of his own blood status, pure as they came, she knew he didn't hold the elitism as high as most. Much like Susan in fact, he enjoyed playing on the edges of the Muggle world.

Alphard snorted however, "Well, he is, isn't he? Little parasite"

Merissa grinned.

"Don't worry about it too much. If you want, I can talk to my dad, make sure nothing nasty about you gets printed in the Prophet," he offered, putting a hand on her shoulder, "We still have a lot of influence with them, and everyone in my family adores you."

"You don't need to do anything," she insisted. It was besides the point that she was far more concerned about Witch Weekly, she didn't want to feel like she owed Alphard anymore than she already did. "We're even remember? Months of suffering and penance and all that."

"I'm not doing it so you forgive me Re," he said gently, "I'm doing it because I fancy you. More to the point, I care about you."

She winced at his words as if he had made to hit her. Of course, she had guessed as much since he had kissed her, and if she was honest longer. He had always been there, in way she knew she couldn't reciprocate.

"Alphard -" she started, moving from her spot on the wall to silence him, but he didn't allow her to continue.

"Stop. You need to hear this now," he spoke gently, "Now that I know your relationship with Abraxas is a sham. Now that I know what you've been through."

"You don't know-" she began to argue.

"I know enough, Re," he said. She frowned up at him - he was wrong, but she let him speak, "I know I've fancied you since the summer before third year when you jumped off the bridge into the river with my cousins and I. I had only ever seen boys do something so reckless. You were too skinny, you had the horribly short hair cut, and you hadn't grown into your limbs yet, but I knew that moment you were the bravest girl I'd ever met, And then you disappeared to that institution for the rest of the summer, and I couldn't stop thinking about the crazy Thorpe girl, diving off that bridge into freezing water, looking happier than I ever saw anyone. Then you came back. You weren't scrawny anymore, beautiful and proper as ever at dinner parties. Once I saw the sparkle in your eyes, you can never unsee it. I recognized how you poked fun at everyone, smart enough to keep it above their heads. You're brilliant and I-"

"Stop," she begged helplessly, "Alphard I can't, even if I felt the same with every ounce of my body, I couldn't because -"

"Because of who?" he demanded, coming closer, "Your parents? Abraxas? Clarence Day and his cameraman? They aren't here Re, it's just you and me."

She opened her mouth to argue that three of the five people he had just listed were just a few blocks away, but he interrupted her, taking her hand. She didn't pull away, instead looked up at him. When did he get so close? She vaguely wondered. His full lips seemed to be taking up most of her vision.

"Tell me no, and I won't," he told her seriously, his voice soft now as her ears were only a few inches from him. Her long eyelashes brushed his chin, and he shivered, but stayed exactly where he was, gazing at her. He meant what he said.

"I won't tell you no," she replied, her voice hardly a whisper. All of her senses were overtaken by him. His rich, smoky smell had enveloped her and she breathed in it happily. She still could see nothing else but the tenderness of his lips, until a moment later when they caught her own.

He had kissed her before, yet this time was completely different. His lips didn't burn of firewhiskey, and thoughts of Susan did plague her mind. He had sent her beautiful roses this morning and he had been with her for so many years, being her friend when he wanted more.

And now she thought she did too.

She kissed him back fiercely, making him pull her closer, his hands firmly gripping her waist. He fingers wandered up his arms and settle on his neck, gently scratching his skin with her nails, making his gasp and return to her mouth with greater intensity. Eventually, they broke apart, both shuddering as they regained their breath.

She looked up at him as he cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking the high point of her cheek bone with his thumb. Her lips were slightly swollen from the force she had been putting on them, kissing him back. He marveled at how beautiful her eyes were this close. He had always thought they were just blue, but that wasn't the case at all. They were a lighter, icy color closer to her pupils, but as they moved out, the color deepened until it was almost purple on the edges. She had tiny grey flecks throughout, which looked silver in the foggy light.

Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel something strange in the pit of her stomach. There was an intensity to it that made her realize exactly what had just happened. Her mind grappled, deciding what emotion to name it as.

"Re," his whispered, closing his eyes. "I never thought -"

Merissa jolted herself from his arms, suddenly identifying the emotion as fear. Even with the knowledge there was nothing threatening about Alphard, and indeed it seemed the last thing he would want to do was hurt her, she was horribly afraid of him, for him, because of him.

"I just kissed you," she whispered, backing away, her eyes wide. The cold air she sucked in froze her lungs. He was looking at her with bemusement, "I shouldn't have. . ."

Her feet had turned her around and she was briskly walking back out onto the main road, all warnings from Abraxas long forgotten. Alphard must have been stunned by her reaction because it took several moments for her to hear him call after her. She quickened her strides, almost reaching the crowd on the street before he caught her hand.

"Merissa, for Merlin's sake, wait -" Alphard begged.

She turned to him and allowed a gust of frosty breath to escape her lungs, "What?"

He took her shoulders in his hands and opened his mouth, Merissa already feeling nervous about what else he might say.

A bright light stopped them both, making Alphard jump back, almost to the other wall of the alley. Clarence Day was stepping towards them from the road. His cameraman had the source of the light, lowering the contraption from his eyes, a thrilled expression on his sallow face.

"Tut tut," Day clicked his tongue disapprovingly, looking like Christmas came nine months early, bright eyes shining "I just had a feeling when Mr. Malfoy offered himself up for an interview that something juicy must be happening elsewhere. I had no idea just how juicy. An affair?"

"We weren't doing anything," Alphard snapped, voice shaking with anger, "What is it going to cost to make this go away, Day? Will a Prophet position do it?"

"A story this big had no price," the man grinned. Merissa believed him, he almost seemed to be leaking elation from the cracks in his perfect teeth, "Perhaps I will speak to your family about keeping your name out of it, but no bribery keeps everything away. Especially when I have a personal tie. Really should have given me at least a comment, little Thorpe."

"I am very sorry about the way I acted Mr. Day," Merissa said through her teeth, no groveling be damned, "Is there anything I could do to make it up to you?"

He smiled widely, looking like a predator, "I'm afraid this only ends in headlines."

He ushered his cameraman with him, and hurried back down the alley, leaving Merissa and Alphard looking stricken. Merissa yanked the ribbon out of her hair again, this time discarding it on the dirty ground, trying to find some comfort in pulling through her hair. Only feeling pain as she tugged at her roots, she stopped.

"Re, I am so sorry," he said in a hushed tone, coming towards her again, "I had no idea anyone would find us back here."

"It's fine," she rationalized shortly, no emotion apparent in either her tone or face, "I knew he was going to break a big story anyways. And if he had come a moment earlier he would have had something much more incriminating in film. We should be happy."

"You don't look happy, Re. . ." he said slowly, but she shook her head.

"I can't really be seen with you right now, Alphard," she reminded him, "I need to find, Abraxas," she stopped, glancing at him. He was still pouring over her inscrutable expression, and she could tell he wasn't going to leave her alone until she addressed the unspoken question.

"It won't be any easier if I say it," she sighed.

"I want to hear it," he pressed, "I don't care. I mean it."

"It was a mistake," she said shortly and hoped that would wound him enough to stop.

"Why?" he asked.

So often now, Merissa was caught between what was easy and was was true, "Because I don't have those kinds of feeling about you," she told him, barely a moment's hesitation making the decision.

He looked long at her before muttering, "You still suck at lying."

She scoffed indignantly but he spoke first, just two words with a shrug, that nearly stuck her to the spot.

"I'll wait."

He strode in front of her and dissolved into the crowd before she could tell him off. Still shocked, absorbing everything bit by bit, she walked into the Three Broomsticks. Bustling with people and deafening with drunken laughs now, it took a long time for Merissa, to cross the room to where Abraxas was seated, among Riddle and the rest of them. So long in fact, she managed to digest everything, push it into a corner of her mind and put on a bright smile for everyone else's benefit.

As she sat, Abraxas placed a kiss on her cheek and welcomed her back, "I missed you," he said brightly, and she smiled back before joining the conversation with ease. Even Riddle didn't eye her with suspicion for long. Though Alphard might accuse her of being a bad liar, it was clear that she was not, because it was only when they were walking back alone and she allowed her mask of content to fall that Abraxas noticed anything at all.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, "I kept Day away as long as possible, but he got bored of all the politeness after a while I think."

"I did something really stupid, Abraxas," she sighed, watching her steps crunch in the muddy slush, "And in order to avoid it, we're going to have to put on a very big show."

He smirked, evidently not realizing the weight of her words yet, "Don't we already?"

She smiled too, ruefully, "I suppose we shouldn't have much of a problem with this then."

Even if that wasn't the case, Merissa swore she would will it to be so as she began explaining everything to Abraxas in an undertone ,the story taking them all the way back to the castle. The more she spoke, the more his happy expression seemed to melt off of his face, from him body and into the slush beneath their feet.

* * *

 **Hi all! I am so sorry about how long this update took me, finals kicked my butt, and this chapter was tricky, especially the end. I rewrote the scene with Alphard a million times. Anyways though, I am on winter break now and hope that I will get lots of writing done(: I recently made a wattpad, so if anyone wants to give me a follow there, I am going to be slowly updating this story as well, probably editing it a bit as well as starting to post an original story, I'm thinking starting over the summer. Its just the same name as here, dakotasilverlock.**

 **Please tell me what you thought of this chapter! I considered spitting it in half but I kinda like having the serious, dark first half and then the fluttery, girly second(: Remember, reviews always inspire me to write faster, and beyond that, have been so funny and kind lately. I will be responding to all reviews since last update in my next chapter, as usual.**

 **Thank you so much for reading, I hope it was enjoyable(:**


	33. The Squib

February 19th, 1943

In the days that followed, Merissa expected to feel calm as she originally had, grateful at the very least that she knew how Clarence Day would backlash at her. Although it would be a nasty rumor, played far beyond what had happened, she had outlived worse. This article would be different, because she had time to prepare, Abraxas at her side and plenty to distract her. However, just after making this promise to herself and retreating to her common room that day, she had found her room had been ransacked.

Merissa had gaped at the mess - her flowers shredded, her books strewn across the floor, pillows slashed and entire mattress flipped over, when Susan had brushed by her at the door to the dormitory, saying snidely, "Your things are a bit askew."

Although the taller girl had taken no credit for the wreckage, Merissa had cursed her name all the while vanishing the snow that was the mix of broken bits of crystal from the flower vases and the down from her bedding. Fortunately, most of her personal belongings were accounted for, only a small selection of potions ingredients smashed beyond repair. It took hours to reorganize her books, wardrobe and trunk, and when a rather confused Abby had entered halfway through the process, Merissa had only muttered Susan's name again as explanation. Even when she was done requesting new pillows from a bemused house-elf she had summoned and she lay on her now bare mattress, she swore she would not allow her worry and anger to dig under her skin.

True to her internal promise, five days later Merissa was sitting in her usual spot at the Slytherin table during dinner, basking in what she was sure would be her final stretch of undisputed popularity. She expected the reign she had enjoyed would end when the next issue of Witch Weekly came out, which she had made a point to learn would arrive late on Saturday or early on Sunday. Although it was not nearly as common as a subscription compared to the Prophet, Merissa was all too aware how many copies she had seen circulating over the years when anything of interest happened. There was no doubt everyone would see it by the start of the next week. Though Abraxas and herself had made a point to prepare for it, she knew the buzz it would create would be unavoidable.

They had been taking precautions the best they could - Abraxas and herself had put on quite a show, being far more outwardly affectionate to each other than they usually were. Joining him for every meal, they spent their time in gentle whispers, talking long strolls by the lake each evening before returning to the Slytherin common room where they wrapped themselves in blankets and laughed softly together until it was time for him to walk her back to the tower. It was entirely draining for both of them but it seemed to be working. Most everyone seemed convinced they were closer than ever, to the point that Druella was gushing about it to anyone who would listen as if it were her own relationship. Not everyone was so complimentary, however.

"Merlin's beard, can you get a room, Malfoy?" Phillip heckled one evening, throwing a licorice wand at the pair. Merissa was leaning against Abraxas' chest, her Transfiguration textbook open on her lap as his fingers twirled tendrils of her hair. His comment was made only more ridiculous by the fact that a few meters away, Lestrange and Hornby were tangled up in an armchair, appearing to try to eat eachothers faces. No one paid them any mind anymore, deaf to even Hornby's occasional soft moans, her cat-like eyes always flickering to Riddle, vying for his attention even now.

Merissa rolled her eyes and threw the candy rope back before tipping her head back to give Abraxas a long kiss, throwing Avery a wink. He guaffed but Dolohov clapped Abraxas on the back as he entered through the common room door.

"About damn time," the older boy snorted, "He's setting a good example, Avery. Take what's yours."

Merissa would have liked to hex him for the comment but they had put far too much effort now to ruin it, so instead she smiled rather dreamily at Abraxas and went back to her reading. It had been rather difficult to keep up with her school work whilst dedicating most of her energy to convincing everyone she was so enamored with him.

The fruits of her effort were obvious though, as everyone seemed rather sold on the idea. Indeed, the only people who seemed to suspect the behavior was fabricated were Susan and Tom, though luckily neither of them vocalized it often.

Susan's reaction had mostly been in upturned lips and snide comments in the dormitory, however given the girl's animosity to Merissa in general, it seemed unlikely anyone would take her seriously. After all, Abraxas and Merissa had apparently been in love for years now.

Riddle's reaction was considerably more suspicious.

"Malfoy and yourself have been particularly nauseating lately," he drawled during one of their meetings in the library. His tone suggested it did not matter to him, one way or another, but Merissa knew merely by bothering it mention it that is was not so.

She had kept her eyes carefully down on the parchment, attempting to fill her mind with ruines as she shrugged, "It's good practice."

Half-truths were far safer with Riddle, especially when she already risked so many lies. He was silent and she cleared her mind entirely before meeting his sable stare. His expression told her he had already found the lie. She swallowed dryly as she went back to the translation, but he didn't say anything more on the matter.

For the moment, however, she was smiling, filling her plate with dinner, and half listening to one of Andrew's stories from a few seats down. Abraxas' hand intertwined with hers lay on the bench, made openly visible by the gap in between them.

". . . Nearly dawn when we decided it was a rather ghastly thing anyways, but we still have it mounted on the wall in our lodge anyways. Great brute. Has your father ever gone goblin hunting, Merissa?"

She glanced up from her dinner to give him the most convincing smile she could muster, the muscles feeling overused, "I am afraid I couldn't say," she told him, "Joseph was always invited along, not myself, and as I understand, the walls are all too covered with beast's my -great-grandfather caught for room for anymore."

Andrew didn't seem to realize the idea was entirely grotesque to her because he nodded thoughtfully, "Although of course there is something to be said of modern decor, I, myself, tend to enjoy the simplicity of a roaring fire, latest kill on the hearth."

Merissa nodded, smiling politely as she pushed her dinner away, her appetite for meat ruined for the evening. She hoped he would move on the Druella's far more attentive stare, but instead he turned to Abraxas.

"You must know then, Malfoy! Gregor take you on any of his trips? He went with half the officials in the ministry last winter if I recall."

Abraxas smiled thinly, "I can't say I've ever had much interest in the sport."

Tenacious in his search, Andrew moved on to questioning Joseph on the matter, although he hardly had more patience Nott than Abraxas did.

Merissa felt the weight of Abraxas resting his chin on her head, indicating he had finished his meal as well. Soon, they would be able to escape outside for a while, avoid some of the suffocating attention.

That was the crux of matter though - they would never really be done with this performance, and that terrified both of them.

"Mer?" a soft voice called from her shoulder, making her turn.

Abby was standing in front of the table, still dwarfed by Abraxas even as he was seated. She appeared particularly small now, appearing nervous, clutching something to her chest, her large brown eyes even wider than usual.

"Hey Abby," Merissa greeted warmly and patted the bench next to her, "Come and

sit."

Abby took the spot backwards, still facing the Ravenclaw table. She was quivering ever so slightly.

"What's wrong?" Merissa frowned, taking a bite of treacle tart. Though the Slytherin table was daunting to some, Abby was usually not so fearful of it.

"Er - well . . .you know how you asked to see my copy of Witch Weekly when it came?" she began meekly.

Merissa's eyes flashed to Abby's still folded arms, realizing a magazine was what she was so carefully protecting. She promptly held out an expectant hand, her heart hammering.

"Uh - I-I think Clarence Day had them do an extra issue early, you see, because it came just now. . .and you're on the front page. . ." Abby shook her head when Merissa presented her hand again, her eyes ablaze as the redheaded girl kept it securely out of site and out of her hands.

"Merissa . . . I really don't think you should read this . . ." Abby nearly whispered, her tiny arms still clutching the periodical as if it were a life raft, "Its not what you think."

"I think I do," Merissa snapped, tugging it from her.

She blinked rapidly, the picture on the front not the one she expected, just her own face, and not a particularly offensive selection at that. She had no memory of taking it, but recognized it was taken in the foyer of her family house, evidently one of the hundreds her mother forced upon her over the years. If she had to guess, it was taken just over a year ago, her hair brushing just past her shoulders at the time.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded, still trying to make sense of the headline. Alphard's name was nowhere to be seen. It was indeed, not what she thought - it was far worse.

 _Merissa Thorpe, Secret Squib?_

Clarence Day had completely blindsided her. All the effort they had put in this last week did absolutely nothing for this rumor. Though objectively it would be less damaging to most people, as she had attended Hogwarts successfully for five years and therefore proving within a shadow of a doubt that she was not a squib, she almost would rather this be an expose about her being a hussy. She had no insecurities that she was that, but she definitely had them about not always being able to produce reliable magic.

Not to mention, though she'd never admit it, hussy was far less offensive to her than squib.

Merissa didn't register that the horrible choking sound was coming from her own throat before Abraxas put a firm hand on her arm.

"Are you sure you want to look at that here?" he asked lowly.

Her head jerked upwards with the nervousness of a wounded animal, her eyes wide, afraid. His expression was grim, and he seemed to know how seriously she would take this. Alphard had noticed the disruption and was staring over at them, transfixed. Abraxas shook his head ever so slightly at him. It wasn't what any of them had been expecting.

"Thank you Abby," Merissa whispered, not trusting her voice any louder. The girl nodded, not taking her eyes from the cover, still clenched in Merissa's hand. Merissa wondered if Abby had read it first. If not, it wasn't as if she wouldn't have a chance to later, the countless copies that would be circulating already being calculated in her mind.

"Mary subscribes as well," Abby told her, hushed. Merissa nodded, not considering what she meant for a moment before she froze, her eyes snapping up to the nearby table.

Surrounded by an entranced gaggle of girls, Mary seemed to be playing a game of tennis with her eyes, flicking between Merissa and the open magazine in front of her, her mouth moving impossibly fast as she read the article. The others followed suit, except Susan, who just stared, appearing rather pale across at her. When their eyes met, Merissa's face turned into a truly furious glower.

"I'm leaving," she snapped to the generally table, rising to her feet. She didn't give a damn about saving face by staying, braving through the storm. Something was going to blow up soon if she didn't get out of here, and herself seemed a likely option.

"We're coming with you," Abby said firmly. She glanced somewhat unsurely at Abraxas, as they didn't often interact but he nodded. Alphard came to his feet as well, silently. Merissa met his eyes and felt a strange twinge. Perhaps better this story, she reasoned.

Storming through the castle, Merissa almost retreated to the Come and Go room before she remembered only Abraxas knew of it and going there would create more questions than she cared to answer if she opened it to Alphard or Abby. Besides, Riddle would kill her for it.

Passing by the blank stretch of wall, she slipped into an empty classroom just past the tapestry of Barnabas, acting as if this was where she was headed in the first place. With an irritated swish of her wrist, the chandelier was lit, which made her feel fractionally better.

Collapsing onto a desktop, she closed her eyes and held out the issue to the air, knowing one of them would take it from her. The warmth that brushed her fingers as she was relieved of the burden told her it was Alphard. A shiver went down her spine that she largely suppressed, shutting her eyes tight.

"Have at it then," she sighed, placing an arm over her eyes, "We're all curious."

"Our mighty hero," Alphard drawled, followed by a loud smack, indicating either Abraxas or Abby didn't appreciate his commentary. Merissa smiled.

Alphard huffed and a loud scraping sound came as he sat at a desk as well. Abraxas' soft hand took her's into it - she guessed he was seated directly on her right, though he didn't make as much sound.

Alphard cleared his throat, the sound of rustling pages stopping abruptly as he began reading, " _Teenaged Hogwart's student Merissa Thorpe is no stranger to press. She was recently mentioned on the front page of several notable paper's last month as the minister hopeful Gregor Thorpe's daughter, as well as a small piece on her two issues ago by yours truly. "She is used to attention," her fellow classmate, Olive Hornby was eager to tell us-_ "

"Oh, I bet she was," Abby seethed, "The next time you set eyes on her Re. . ."

"I want I want to hear the rest," Merissa said, impatiently.

Alphard continued, " _So what is the meaning of this special edition, article on her? Reporting from the famous ground of Hogwarts school, dedicated to having the freshest, juiciest scoop for you, and that is exactly what I have found. A member of the sacred 30 families, the Thorpe's have a long history of greatness in the wizarding world, so it was not much a surprise when their daughter was rumored to excel in magic, to the point of being named prefect in Ravenclaw, a house historically known for its talent and intelligence._

 _But if you know me, dear readers, you know this cannot be the whole story. When interviewed, classmates had some interesting things to say about our supposed golden girl. Many stories circulated not of her magical talent, but instead of her struggles producing magic._

 _"Sure, she's plenty good at reading and potions and knowing things," says above mentioned student Olive Hornby, a Slytherin in the same year as Thorpe, also named prefect, "But she's entirely incompetent in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am concerned she might not pass her OWLs at all, blast a tester to bits."_

 _Several other students agreed that they had heard rumors the youngest Thorpe was challenged in wanded magic, suggesting she may be a squib. A squib of course is the name for a non-magical person born to magical parents. Largely, it is considered a plight of families who have mixed their lineage with Muggles._

 _A squib in a pureblood family however? The concept it largely unheard of! A frightening idea for many families, the threat of non-magical blood ever controversial topic. Particularly given Gregor Thorpe's defensive strategy suggested for the problem, the question becomes, how would his daughter cope with this?_

 _The answer, dear reader, is not well. Several peers not only spoke of her lack of magical abilities, but also about the rumors of her aggression towards other students. After all, it seems impossible a squib would be able to make it through Hogwarts for five years without bullying other students into doing magical work for her._ "

"Does he expect none of his readers went to Hogwarts?" Merissa grumbled from under her arm, "No one could make it through first year as a squib, no matter how apparently terrifying they were."

"Its codswallop," Alphard agreed vehemently, "Are you sure you even want me to finish, Re? I mean honestly no one in their right mind would believe -"

"I'll take it then, if you want to stop so badly" Abraxas interrupted, snatching the paper away from him.

He began reading, " _A far cry from the polite, talented young woman she had been portrayed as indeed! Beyond this, there were countless rumors of her attacking other students, largely ignored by the Hogwarts staff. Her agressions in her inability to produce magic seem to be forced onto many students, many of which were too afraid to comment on the matter._

 _"She's never been good with a wand," confirms her fellow prefect, Edward Thomas, "But what is more important for a prefect is that they know the rules through and through. Merissa has a particularly good memory of such and for that reason, she's very good to work with._ "

Merissa was unable to restrain her laugh, imaging how long Edward must have prattled on about the importance of such before Day could get a usable quote out of him. Thomas, at least, she was assured was innocent in this.

Abraxas continued after a moment, the strain in his voice still evident, "Merlin this is long, we still have a half page to go."

"Go on then," Merissa frowned, closing her eyes again.

" _As a magically challenged individual, it would be guessed that if discovered, Thorpe would have to face trial, as any non-magical child posing as a witch or wizard is expected to face serious consequences, as stated in the International Statute of Security._

 _However, by far the most illegal and spine chilling information came from a source close to Thorpe which requested to stay anonymous, "I found books and potions ingredients hidden throughout her room," the source tells us, "Highly suspicious, including poisonous ingredients and books on subjects not taught at Hogwarts_."

"I can't believe Susan ransacked my room," Merissa muttered, "Obviously she know why I have those, didn't feel the need to mention it to Day. How far can you sink."

"I know she was really mad but do you think she would really talk to him?" Abby hedged.

"Yes," Merissa and Alphard replied at the same time.

Abraxas began reading again after a beat, " _It is known that some squibs in the past have attempted to brew or dabble their way in dark arts into having powers. The most famous contemporary of this kind of course was the Bell Witch, banished from England after allegedly selling her soul for magic and dying soon after in America. Though the exact reasons for these items remain unknown, it is clear that something strange is happening within the walls of Hogwarts. Is Merissa merely a harmless squib? A dangerous demon? A rampant bully? Look for more updates in the coming weeks, dear readers_."

Abraxas stopped reading and placed the article down on the desk. Merissa was still hidden behind her arm. Abby and Alphard seemed afraid to make a sound yet, break the heavy silence that had settled.

"Is that it?" Merissa asked, finally lifting her head.

"Yes," Abraxas confirmed. He was watching her carefully as if he expected her to break down in tears any moment. They all were.

"Its fine," she told them firmly, "It doesn't matter. None of its true."

They didn't look convinced. Abby exchanged a glance with Alphard and Merissa felt her mouth harden into a line. The last thing she wanted was for them was to start walking on eggshells around her again. No matter how things changed, it was assumed she needed to be protected. She didn't.

"Obviously its not true," Abby said slowly, "But all of those things were based in some sort of truth. Some people will probably believe it."

"I appreciate your concern. I'm sure I'll feel worse about it later," she conceded, shrugging. Abraxas still hadn't said anything yet, but was watching her. She wanted to leave, "At the moment, all I want to do is to be punctual for my meeting with Riddle. You don't mind, do you?"

Abby and Alphard glanced at each other unsurely again, but Abraxas finally spoke, "I'll walk you."

She was about to decline his offer, but the look he gave her told her it had not been a request, "Alright, thank you," she agreed slowly. She hopped off the desk and followed him to the door, "I'll see you later," she waved lamely back at Alphard and Abby.

They seemed to still be expecting her to crack right down the middle and mumbled vague goodbyes. A rather unpleasant feeling settled in her stomach as she walked with Abraxas down the halls. While she did appreciate their concern, she also did not at all. As well meaning as it may be, she was simply weary of it.

"Why do you think he didn't use the picture instead and spun some story about you and Alphard?" Abraxas asked, finally bridging the subject they had all wanted to at first, but had restrained because of Abby's presence.

"He probably had a million reasons," Merissa sighed, rubbing a tension out in her shoulder, "For one, it's a better punishment for calling him a half-blood. He wanted to catch me off guard. He didn't want to drag the Black's into this, with all of their influence. He could be building even more of a story off of it even. I really can't say."

Abraxas nodded slowly. They passed through several more corridors before he said anything more, "You know not to be. . . reactive about this, correct?"

"Reactive?" she asked innocently, "You mean you I should not have laced Olive Hornby's sheets with wart-growing powder?"

Abraxas turned light as his hair and made a strangled sound before she laughed, "Merlin, I'm only joking."

He scowled, "No, you're not."

She winked before retreating into the library, preventing him from saying any more on the issue. Passing through the rows, she already noticed people glancing at her with greater interest than usual, a few copies of the magazine already reaching this place. The carefree smirk she had worn for Abraxas quickly dissolved.

When she reached her usual corner of the library she found Riddle already waiting for her, as she had anticipated. Even though he had taken her chair, he at least didn't gape at her, so she was pleased enough to see him, until she realized he had the copy of Witch Weekly open on his lap. She grimaced briefly and then constructed her face again as she sat, attempting to decipher his expression.

"I didn't know you subscribed," she had meant for it to sound like a dig, but rather it ended up more of an accusation. He picked a fine time to be interested in gossip.

"Hornby brought me a copy, insisting I read about my 'new best friend'," he explained smoothly. His dark eyes were still scanning over the page, "As I understand, she ordered several copies and plans to frame one. So she didn't mind parting with this one."

"How charming," Merissa sighed, settling into her seat. She watched him read, laboring to keep her limbs still no matter how much they begged to fidget in her nervousness, "And how do you find it?"

He considered the page for a moment before saying, "I am disappointed."

"Disappointed?" she asked, cringing. She knew she shouldn't care about his opinion, but she did.

"Yes," he agreed slowly, still reading, "I was under the impression an expose was intended to reveal big secrets. How you run an overcover potions ring or hex professors to improve your scores."

"You seem to have given both a thought," she sniffed. She was still lashing out like a wounded animal, powerless to stop herself.

He ignored her, "This is worthless. Besides the fact that squibs can't brew," she raised her eyes at him in disbelief, "Hornby should know better, being on the receiving end of your hexes, that you have no lack of magical ability."

"You wanted it to be more dramatic?" she clarified, still not sure she understood.

"I hoped it would be more enlightening," he amended, putting down the magazine, "Though I doubt I need to stoke your ego any, you're quite good at magic."

"Excuse me?" she asked, smile playing across her lips.

"I hope you heard that, Thorpe, because I will never say it again," he said, unamused. She fought back her smile, averting her eyes, "Would you like it as a keepsake?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she wrinkled her nose at the offending article. She was sure it would be etched in her mind already. Still, his comment was worth harping over.

"That was probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me Riddle," she smirked, leaning her head against her hand, "Dare I say this a great leap for our friendship?"

"I am not your friend," he stated plainly," If you call me that again, we shall have contention."

"Acquaintance?" she tried again. Perhaps it was in her nature to push him.

He considered her, his haughty air unaffected, "I prefer the term 'lord'. However, I am reasonable. 'Acquaintance' is acceptable, when the company calls for it."

"I bet you do," she laughed, under her breath.

Either he ignored her or didn't hear.

"We shall begin then," he said, taking out the days scribes from the journal. They had made great progress in filling up the various notebooks and as the topics of the entries strayed further from the topic of the chamber, Merissa felt less need make purposeful mistakes on the translations.

"What date is this from?" she asked leaning over the table to get a better view. He pulled away, careful not to let their arms brush, as he always did.

"That is where the fun begins," he smirked, "It was also encrypted. I assume you recognize the ruine. . ."

They worked for a couple hours, finishing a considerable amount. It was easier for Merissa to translate correctly again, as opposed to making slight variations all throughout previous weeks. They went through all he had copied down, making her feel accomplished and slightly haughty, reclining back in her chair.

"You're quite adept at Greek," he complimented lightly, fanning the ink so it would dry.

"Well, I've had so much practice lately," she smiled, closing her eyes as she rolled her neck. Her self-satisfaction was thinly veiled with humility, "Can we start verbs this weekend in Parseltongue?"

"Certainly," he obliged, closing the notebook on the now dry ink, "I want some of that polyjuice potion you just finished though."

"Why?" she complained, slightly annoyed at his greed but mostly worried what he wanted it for, "That wasn't part of our deal."

"No," he hissed, suddenly standing over her, making her tense, "Accepting me as alpha was though. As your leader, I am asking it of you."

"Fine," she agreed, also rising. He didn't frighten her as much as he used to, so it wasn't difficult to respond loftily, "I can always make more."

"I am sure," he agreed, "And Thorpe?"

"Yes?"

He abruptly slammed her up against a bookshelf, pinning her between his arms. She blinked away stars to see his face, inches from hers, contorted in fury as he snarled, "Beta. Stands. Down."

The fear that coursed down her spine could only be described as how she imagined she would feel if she was caught alone in the woods with a wild animal. His eyes were black, blacker than coal, than the depths of a cavern, a gaping hole that he no end or beginning.

She had gotten too comfortable. The devil she knew was no safer than before when she had not. Her eyes darted around in shock but found no one in sight. He must have been planning this then, waiting until no one would see. It had been foolish of her not to sense his irritation rising.

She looked back at him, her eyes level with his scowl, "Yes, Riddle."

"Try again," he hissed, slamming her back again. A book fell from the shelf and landed on the floor with a loud thump. She was suddenly very aware of his body pressed up against hers, although he might not be. Never had she been so close to anyone, not even Alphard. He was cool, like a breath of wind, and the chill from his body made each inch of skin he touched hyperaware.

"Yes, my lord," she whispered.

She blinked hardly believing the words had come from her mouth, and her lashes just brushed his chin. He released her hastily, either because of the sensation or because he had gotten what he wanted. It was unclear.

"Good," he spoke in his haughty lilt, unaffected, "I will expect that when is is appropriate from now on."

She simply blinked at him again, still too stunned to say anything. He picked up his bag and left her alone. Finally noticing the book that had fallen, she replaced it to the shelf before collecting her things and walking to her common room, slightly dazed, mind spinning.

There was no denying it. He had intimidated her, roughed her up, invaded her mind and tortured her in the past. She knew he was horrible - a sociopath if she was being mild. There was no line he wouldn't cross to get what he wanted. He didn't have rules for himself which made him terrifying, ruthless and cruel. More than that, it made him the most unique person she had ever met. No matter how they all pretended - Abraxas obvious with his self imposed etiquette straightjacket and Alphard with his ever so subtle toeing of the expectations of his family - none of them would claim liberation, Merissa least of all.

Tom Riddle had never bent to anyone's rules, nor did he act within the realm of any expectations. He fooled them all, effortlessly, thoughtlessly, without apology. Over the weeks, she had come to admire his skill, persistence and raw talent. She had thought of him as a friend, despite the fact that she was at constant odds with him, even though he wouldn't let her call him one.

Even more disturbing, for just a splinter of a moment, she had wanted to kiss him.

* * *

 **Oh my, my, my. It has finally happened! This chapter is dedicated to beefsupreme and Alice who both sent wonderful reviews my way this afternoon, inspiring me to update earlier than I planned. Thank you for all of your who have been reviewing, following and reading, you are all the best, truly. I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday and enjoyed! I know I have been using it to do some serious work on this story and loving every second. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter! Merissa is seemingly avoiding Alphard a bit after what happened, but we haven't gotten much of an insight into her thoughts on it other than in the moment. How might what happened with Tom change that? Why is Clarence Day holding back that picture? I'd love to hear what you think :)**

 **To my ever extraordinarily kind reviewers:**

amandadr **: Thank you for you reviews! Oh man, I've been there absolutely addicted to a story so ignoring sleep to read but I never though I'd read that about my own! That is so kind of you :) I'm glad it was so engaging and thank you so much for taking the time to read. Happy to hear the storyline is fun to read, I know its been a joy to develop. I know I've been teasing on the chamber for a while, and not going to lie, its going to still be a few chapters before that comes into full throttle, but there will be a lot between now and then. Thank you again so much for being so dedicated to reading, amazing to hear.**

arizontea **: Your reviews kill me, oh my gosh. Yess** dramatic **Tom wreathed in flame with a flapping black cloak is a LOOK. He's absolutely ridiculous and I love him. In my mind, whenever him and Abraxas are speaking they use insane sweeping dance moves but it isn't relevant to the story so it isn't mentioned. Speaking of Abraxas YES, his interest in Tom is literally tragic. It will only ever cause him pain and he knows it. There will definitely be some more slow motion train crash when Merissa and Tom become more involved and Abraxas tries to handle his future wife and the boy he's been in love with since third year being together. I think I invest so much into Abraxas because I'm a machinist or something, I want to be emotionally injured. He is a kind of balance between the control of all things in his life because he can't control his sexuality. Anyways though, thank you thank you for your reviews, they were amazing and I loved them. I hope updates continue to be enjoyable:)**

beersupreme **: HELLO I LOVE YOU! haha thank you so much for your reviews and messages, they mean the world to me that you're continuing to read. Abraxas, Tom and Merissa are my dream team too I love that you love them. No spoilers by Tom is about to start a master scheme and I am so excited to think what you will think of it. I was soooo happy to see you liked the last chapter, I poured my entire ass soul into it hahaha. But seriously it took me days to even edit it and I was proud of my baby chapter growing into a creepy/drama monster. As for Merissa/Tom, yesss a huge step for them here in just a little segment. I look forward to seeing you on Wattpad! Ah! Thank you so much for your undying support since literally day one:) I look so forward to hearing what you think about this next chapter.**

Alice **: Oh my goodness, your review was the most in depth and awesome thing I have ever read, THANK YOU, thank you, thank you! Seriously the kind of response I would sell my soul and a Klondike bar for, so seriously, you rock. Happy to hear in character Tom is appreciated! I actually had a big debate in what to do with his character after the torture scene in back in "The Mind is Willing", I lost several followers which at the time was a significant chunk. I really struggled with whether I should make him less so, but ultimately I decided I knew where I wanted to go with the story and stuck with it, so its really nice to hear you say that you appreciate that he is true to character. I didn't want to dilute him any. I've always though Tom showed some characteristics indicative of abandonment issues, which in a sense suggest a certain amount of emotional complexity. His feelings about his magical lineage are so conflicted, especially about his mother in my mind, because she was traitorous and sullied the line and had the audacity to die (like seriously haha) but at the same time is his connection to the magical world that he acres so much about. I think killing his father was a really important milestone for Tom because seeing his father living in a fine manor while his mother had died in the poorest of parts of London probably solidified his hatred for Muggles and belief they needed to put in their places.**

 **The basin, yes! I wasn't sure if it would be caught but he quite literally brushes his nose against the very facet and _cl_** _ **oses his eyes**_ **. I nearly died too. Its not quite astral projection BUT you're definitely onto something with something weird about his dreams and the way the chamber is calling to him - not normal and I don't just mean because he's the heir. I feel truly awful hinting at this when it won't be clear for a longggg time but you just absolutely hit it on the nose with something weird happening and I had to say something.**

 **His irritation with everything sentimental, from Merissa wearing the necklace, the initials carved into the bathroom door and even her affection with Abraxas in this chapter is all stemming from the same issue he has, I like that you noticed:)**

 **Tom really _wants_ to be validated in his feeling that he is better than everyone else and he's willing to take a ring or claim a bloodline or whatever it takes to secure his place of influence.**

 **Haha glad you like the Morfin line, I felt like it was something he would think.**

 **Abraxas yes! I could quite literally talk about him for hours, he is my favorite as well. He's absolutely tragic and it kills me, I wouldn't take him any other way. As I've mentioned in the past, I started writing Abraxas as super one dimensional. I always knew I wanted him to be gay but just that and proper were going to be his only characteristics, but as I got more into his head I just didn't see it. He's my son now and I'd die for him. He really does mean well, and usually knows what is best.**

 **Susan's threat becomes more real in this chapter of course, but Abby mentions she doesn't think it was her, though Alphard and Merissa seemed sold that she was, hmmmmm. I'm just leaving it at that.**

 **As for Merissa and her family, we will see more of them very soon and I am very excited for it, I can't express. We haven't seen much other than Merissa and Joseph being petty, but I really have enjoyed the writing I have done involving all of the Thorpe's so far.**

 **Merissa's feelings about Alphard and complicated. I know what you mean, its hard to like him sometimes. One of my friends who reads this story HATES Alphard with an absolute burning passion and its hilarious, although their favorite character is Edward Thomas so not sure how seriously I can take it. That being said, I swear I will address what's happening between them more clearly in the future, I know it must seem like I've been avoiding it but something does happen. That being said, Merissa's feelings are rather mixed up right now as she realizes and attempts to deny her feelings about Tom.**

 **Again, thank you for you amazing review and I hope I hit all your points well enough and that you liked this update:)**


	34. Repercussions of Reckoning

February 22, 1943

Overall, Merissa had expected the majority of the backlash she would receive from the article would be either jeers across the Great Hall asking if she needed her transfiguration homework done for her, or patronizing empathetic looks in the corridors from people who didn't know her well, both of which she was certain she could have held her head high and ignored.

While there was plenty of these, the reaction that she had not expected was how people she had class with for years were suddenly willing to ignore the hundreds of times she had performed magic in front of them and believe she was indeed, a squib. For this, she was entirely at a loss how to react to.

When in Charms she was slipped a note from Patrick Burke, a lanky fellow Ravenclaw, asking if it were true, all she could do was stare blankly back at him. Eventually she crumpled the slip of parchment and sending it floating back to him, what she thought was a answer enough to his question. Even then, he seemed more confused than convinced.

Not only were some willing to selectively forget five years of magic, but the fear mongering that had manifested in the last paragraph from the anonymous source created more of a reaction than she could have ever foreseen. Perhaps it had a bit to do with how she had become a member of a rather notorious group, or maybe how she had been skulking around the castle lately, or possibly it was just that the purplish bruises that crept up below her eyes had never really gone away this year. Equally so, she had a long history with Abraxas, who was best known for his quidditch talents, second only to his family's reputation of blood elitism. While the two seemed unrelated to Merissa, people had a propensity of tying wickedness along with it. The uneasy whispers and averted eyes as she passed by were better - and worse - than the alternative loud jokes.

Monday morning when she arrived at the greenhouses, she was determined to avoid all of it, marching through the flickering glances and outright stares to join Abby and James near the door the the greenhouse, just as their professor began ushering them in. After all, the news was days old now, she thought perhaps if she acted as normal as possible, others would follow suit. So far, it failed to catch on, eyes following her into the muggy warmth of the greenhouse.

"Good morning," she greeted the duo, walking alongside them to their station at the far end of the greenhouse.

"Good morning!" Abby piped brightly, "We missed you at breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry," Merissa shrugged, willing herself not to listen to the frantic whispering of Betty Macmillan to her Hufflepuff friends, just over the redhead's shoulder.

Macmillan's honey-blonde ponytail bounced like a bobber in her vigor. Despite her best efforts, Merissa distinctly heard the words "secret" "power-hungry" and "poison".

"Shut it, Macmillan," Susan snapped loudly, glowering down the group of yellow and black clad girls, as she arrived just behind them, "If anyone's a squib, its you. Spreading fertilizer in this class is the most impressive magic I've ever seen from you."

"Why don't you shut it, Nigellus?" Merissa shot back snidely, "Her only crime is believing rumors - you've been supplying them for weeks."

"It is her fault for berating you though," Susan muttered, ignoring the jibe as she joined them.

Another unexpected result of the article's release had been a major shift in demeanor in Susan. The girl, who had spent weeks as an aggressor, suddenly became Merissa's main defender, shutting down anyone that might even have an whisper of gossip on their lips. Although Merissa had never outwardly admitted it, she had missed her friend, which was why the timing of her switch could not be more ironic - it was the one thing Merissa refused to forgive her for. What she had done hadn't been some play for Alphard's attention or petty act of jealousy. It was downright vicious.

"Well it is your fault for selling me out to Clarence Day," Merissa bit back, pulling _101 Herbs and Fungi_ from her bag and slamming it onto the table. James raised his eyebrows at her while Susan groaned.

"I have told you every day since, I am sorry about messing with your notes that morning, but I did not ransack your things or speak to Day. I was in detention for the Hogsmeade trip, I couldn't have!"

"I doubt you would let anything hinder you from destroying my life," Merissa retorted, pulling on her long dragonhide gloves with a snap, "But I'm sure it was some other anonymous Ravenclaw."

"It was," the girl hissed back earnestly, pulling her hair back to begin working on the group's Chinese Chomping cabbage, "Or someone else who solved the eagle's riddle! There's plenty of people angry at you this year, Re. I want to know who did just as much as you."

"Excuse me," Merissa hissed, "Re is a pet name. Reserved for _friends_."

Susan closed her jaw tight, making Merissa smugly turn her full attention to her notes. Apparently, the cabbage's gaping mouth should have been covered last class with moss, which they had either missed, or more likely, was removed by an impassioned Hufflepuff after they had left. Surely, sabotaging her would have gone a long way with Betty Macmillan and her friends. Sighing, Merissa started dripping water into the cabbages lips to rehydrate them.

"Good morning class!" Professor Asselman called, preventing them from continuing their conversation, which Susan was likely to attempt, "I want to make absolutely sure everyone is wearing their gloves today, because we're going to be feeding and I don't want any missing fingers. They are particularly attracted to the scent of blood."

Abby blanched slightly, pulling her bare hand away from the animated vegetable. For now, it was only moving lethargically, still sleepy from its long nap inside the dark room of the greenhouse. James carefully placed it into a sunny patch on the table and its wide mouth began moving with more zeal. From there on, they worked diligently, if not more quietly than usual, taking turns tossing grubs to the cabbage, which munched them up with vigor. All the while, Susan hissed denials every few minutes, grating on Merissa's nerves. By the end of class, she slapped down her trowel, nearly cleaving the cabbage in half, and turned to look up at the olive-skinned girl.

"Fine, Nigellus," she agreed waspishly, "I will accept that it was not you _and_ forgive you for what a complete fathead you've been if you can prove that it was someone else who spoke to Day."

"Deal," Susan nodded enthusiastically without hesitation, making Merissa scowl, "I'll be sure to update you as I make progress. I already have likely suspects . . ."

"Scapegoats," Merissa muttered under her breath.

As the class headed back to the castle, Merissa walked with James again, grateful that he was being a faithful friend despite his dislike for the attention being around her brought. Abby had been rather distracted, as Thomas had asked her out on several more dates since Merissa's party, not that anyone blamed her. Susan walked on the other side of James, which was wise, as Merissa would have a sudden urge to stretch and smack Susan with her elbow if the girl came too close.

As they reached the stone steps leading to the castle, they passed a group of fourth year Ravenclaws, who were whispering and pointing at them as they passed, earning a quite frightening glower from Susan, who asked loudly, "Can I hex them?"

"I hardly think that would solve any infamousy," Merissa replied, miffed.

James laughed softly, "The world really has gone mad if you don't think jinxing someone or something will help."

"I resent that," she said, though her lips twitched.

Once they had made it to Transfiguration, she felt as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders in crossing the threshold. As this class was with Gryffindors, she was not concerned about being overly ogled at and the chances of anyone saying anything were slim. Though some of her classmates avoided her more, largely they seemed too preoccupied with interhouse affairs and their upcoming quidditch match to be bothered by her. Charlus Potter even offered her a smile as she took her seat, several spots in front of him. Apparently, he didn't care about Witch Weekly.

As Professor Dumbledore greeted them, she felt secure enough to ease her shoulders back into her chair and take coherent notes as he began lecturing. By the end of the hour, she had several handsome and functional lamps on her desk where birds had been hoping a mere hour ago. Though she had been slipping in most of her classes, she had kept up to her usual high level in this one. Leaning back in her seat, she shot Abby a smirk from a few desks down where she was chatting with Thomas, turned completely around in his chair to face her. The redhead through back a dazzled grin over his shoulder and Merissa snorted lightly, turning back to her table just as Dumbledore breezed by.

"Excellent work, Miss Thorpe," her professor praised, transforming her lamps back into birds, which fluttered away to the rafters, "I am glad you are continuing to perform so well, even with so much of your time taken up after hours."

Her eye flashed up, but the man had already moved on to Jame's desk, complimenting him on the detail on his single golden lamp. They were diminished shortly after, and Merissa wasted no time picking up her bag, and walking to lunch, slightly shaken. She told herself there was no way he could know, yet she had a hard time shaking the feeling, as Dumbledore always seemed to know more than he should. Cloaks were only so effective and she hadn't been as careful as usual. Dumbledore was, after all, who she had asked about the chamber in the first place. At the very least, he must have noticed her increased time spent with Riddle lately.

By the time she had reached the Great Hall, she had decided she should at least mention the professors' strange comment to Riddle. She would have to make it another half-truth, but it would be better than to say nothing, so she made her way to the far end of the Great Hall.

Even after the article, Merissa spent most of her meals at the Slytherin table, as they were significantly less likely to mention it. Those in Riddle's circle obvious knew she was quite adept at magic from dueling practice, and even those who were not seemed more impressed at the suggestion she would dabble in dark arts than frightened. The notable exception was Olive Hornby, who was livid that the rumors hadn't damaged Merissa's reputation further. The blonde girl raised her nose as Merissa passed, and thoughts of charming Olive's goblet had just began crossing her mind, when Merissa stopped abruptly in front of the stretch of bench she had claimed as her own, any thoughts of alerting Riddle completely scaping her at the perculariar sight. A handsome eagle owl occupying her seat, attempting to peck at passersby.

"What is this? Post comes in the morning," she asked, shooing the ill-tempered bird so she could sit. It hopped into Abraxas's spot, as he hadn't returned from Divination yet. Alphard shrugged, but she suspected he might have an inkling, his body turned decidedly away. The bird came closer and gave her thumb a mighty peck as she was lowering her bag onto the floor..

"Ow, bloody hell," she hissed as Alphard took her hand into his lap and began wrapping his napkin around her now bleeding finger without a word. She narrowed her eyes at the tawny creature before snatching the letter from it with her uninjured right hand.

The envelope only had her name written across the front. She didn't recognize the script and or the bright plum ink. Intrigued, she slashed the top open with a swish of her wand, pulling out a piece of parchment and three attached pages. The message on the first page was short.

 _Make sure you keep up with the news, Miss Thorpe. -C.D._

She flipped the parchment over, but it was otherwise blank. Moving on to the attached pages, she realized they were pulled from a magazine, a section dedicated to opinions written in by readers. Witch Weekly had a column like this, and she was all too aware of who the columnist in charge was.

"That's not?" Alphard hedged, peering over her shoulder.

"Oh, it is," she assured him, her eyes scanning down the page. This week, it seemed all anyone wanted to write in about was her, the supposed squib. Her name was referenced in every single paragraph, and if that wasn't obvious enough, the same neon ink that the note had been in had circled every single one. She flipped to the next page, finding it was a similar column from a different magazine. The third was the same, covered in small violet circles that somewhat reminded her of dragon pox. It made the page look diseased.

Even if the note hadn't been intialed she would have quickly guessed who would care enough to go through and highlight her name and then send her these. She shook her head, lips turning up as her eyes went down the page. A low laugh escaped her lips.

" _As a mother of a Hogwarts student, the blatant disregard for safety as allowing a dangerous student like Merissa Thorpe among our children makes me frightened and concerned. I will be writing my child twice a day until this matter is resolved_ ," Merissa read aloud to him, "Twice a day? Poor thing," she laughed louder.

He stared at her as if she had finally gone mad, but she was too busy reading to notice.

"Oh, this one is good, ' _When I was in school they had real discipline for students, and they never would have gone so far out of line. Allowing a known bully a position of power like prefect is not punishment. If schools still practiced military discipline, we wouldn't have these delinquents,'_ " she snorted, her eyes moving further down the page, "You don't even want to know what this one calls me, though I think you'd enjoy the colorful insult."

"Why in the name of Merlin's overgrown nose hair would you find that funny," he snapped, taking the page she had already finished from the table.

"See that nose hair comment was exactly what I am talking about - it's an old one. These are fresh," she grinned as his frown deeped, eyes moving down the page.

As he skimmed, Druella awkwardly reached around the sizable owl to put a hand on Merissa's shoulder, "You don't have to be strong, sweetie. What they wrote about you was a truly offensive and outrageous lie."

Merissa gave her a short smile. Druella was the last person's opinion she cared about at the moment.

"This one also says she plans on sending several howlers, preferably in the middle of the night as soon as she finds out how to send you mail directly" Alphard said, putting down the column and looking at her with apprehension.

"Maybe I can put it in Susan's bed," she considered, utterly unconcerned. She turned over the last page, "This one might be about you, Hornby, it says 'desperate skinflint'. Can you confirm Lestrange?"

"What is going on?" Abraxas had finally arrived, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. Not only was the large owl that occupied his intended stretch of bench was unfamiliar, but Lestrange has sprung up a few seats down, looking like he might hop the table to tackle Merissa.

"I would suggest you sit down, Lestrange," Abraxas told him coolly, as he forced the owl aside, avoiding its eager beak, "Assuming you value your face on that part of your body."

Lestrange looked incredulously to Riddle for support, but he had not paid them any mind, reading his Potions book and he ate. It was Mulciber who eventually yanked the sallow boy back down, muttering to himself.

"I have fans," Merissa told Abraxas loftily, ignoring the two Slytherin goons as she handed him the pages she had just finished.

"This is an opinion column," he frowned, "And it says this woman from Glasgow hopes you get expelled for being a filthy squib."

"Yes," she agreed, "It does."

"You don't care then?" Alphard clarified, watching her take a bite of roast. If he had seemed surprised she didn't crack at the release of the article, he was now entirely flabbergasted. Before he was waiting for her to cry, now he seemed ready for her to spontaneously combust.

She snorted, "What are angry housewives going to do? Make me do the dishes?"

"I don't get it," Andrew stated, Druella bobbed her head vigorously in agreement glancing from him to Merissa.

"Because this means this is the best they can do," Merissa stated, a flick of her wrist indicating the articles, "And it's pathetic. I didn't even see these on my own, Clarence Day had to send them to me directly. He's trying awfully hard to get me to care because its already had its run," she crumpled the pages into a ball and caught them on fire, allowing them to smoulder, "Wow, look, magic!" she exclaimed in feigned surprise. Alphard guffawed.

"It is ludicrous, even defending it," Abraxas sneered, "Besides the fact you are obviously able to perform magic, everyone know squibs cannot be produced by two purebloods. That should be enough proof for anyone with the slightest knowledge of magical bloodlines," his haughty stare made those who had doubted it for a moment look down in shame.

"Maybe she wasn't then," Lestrange said snidely from his spot several seats down. Merissa's eyes narrowed at him and his fork inexplicably began poking him furiously in the chest. Olive Hornby cried out, attempting to bat it away. She was unsuccessful and started to screech louder, looking around desperately.

"Be more careful with your wand Lestrange," Riddle drawled, flicking his own wand to stop Merissa's silent spell. She had gone back to her soup after taking Abraxas' hand back and displaying it on the table innocently. Tom eyed her knowingly before returning to his book.

"Anyone with half a brain knows it's codswallop, Merissa," Druella said earnestly, speaking up again. She was looking at Merissa and Abraxas' intertwined hands, "You two are the perfect example of a pureblood couple, as it should be - proper and arranged. Anyone to question your magic is as absurd as anyone questioning your relationship. Ridiculous."

The younger Rosier laughed, making Alphard wince next to her, but Merissa kept her smile, "Thank you Druella. It means a lot that you're being such a loyal friend."

Druella's comment was a reminder, however, that bad as things were, Merissa could be grateful Clarence Day was holding back the story he had seemed to originally be after. This, at least would not involve her parents or her precarious arrangement with Abraxas. Patronizing pity or mistrust were better than the alternative, or so she told herself. Turning back to her meal, she managed only a few more bites before she was interrupted again.

"You coming, Re?" Abby called from across the aisle. Merissa frowned down at Abraxas' watch and found it was already time for potions. Her stomach still felt rather empty and she eyed the remainder of her roast.

"Yes, one second Abby," she called before turning to Abraxas as she picked up her bag, "You don't mind do you?" she asked him, for the benefit of their charade.

She was well aware he would rather her walk with them than anywhere close to Tom, who had recently departed the table, his potions book in tow. Abraxas nodded briefly, distracted by something Avery was muttering in his ear.

"You coming?" she asked Alphard as she slung her bag onto her shoulder.

"Naw, I'll catch up," he shrugged. He had bewitched the remainder of his roll to skate around his plate, occasionally slipping on gravy and now was watching it, amused. Apparently, he wasn't too concerned about being late. He didn't crave Slughorn's attention like the rest of his house.

"Fair enough," she said airily, raising her eyebrows at him as she went to join her friends. She had to admit - she didn't quite know how he had managed to make things anything but incredibly awkward between them, given their last encounter, but he had kept his unspoken promise and hadn't made a fuss about the matter. Things weren't quite uncomfortable, but not like they had been either.

When she reached the group, they formed a sort of protective formation around her, with James and Abby on either side and Susan taking up the back. Despite her anger, Merissa couldn't refute a certain amount of respect for the other girl's persistence.

As they descended into the dungeons, Merissa could feel a nervous shiver rising in her, an it took her until they were just outside the classroom for her to realize the cold air had little to do with it. The large congregation of Slytherin boy's outside made her realize, she had not talked to Tom since their confrontation last week, her having skeeved out of meeting with him over the weekend. Abraxas had conveyed the message that she was sick to him, and Merissa had been cautious enough to pretend to Abraxas as well that she was ill.

According to Abraxas, he had taken this well, so Merissa had theorized Tom didn't feel he had adequately bullied someone unless they avoided him somewhat after. He likely saw her inability to face him other than across the table at meals as appropriate. She refused to let him interfere with her school work however, so she marched into potions without bothering to see if he was with the gang of boys.

Sitting alone at their desk, she felt more confident. If he had been in the group - which she thought likely - he had surely just seen her swagger past without bothering any about him. Taking pride on her conviction, she sat with her back straight and her neck arched elegantly as she unpacked her potions kit and set up her ingredients. By the time she was pleased enough by her arrangement, the last few stragglers were coming in through the door, but Tom still hadn't arrived. Slughorn rose to close the door, his small eyes flickering to the vacant seat next to Merissa.

He wasn't coming, she realized, suddenly feeling like she had been dipped into the Black Lake. The icy chill solidified in her spine, making her shiver. Riddle never missed class, with a few significant exceptions. He had missed potions just once before, the day she had flaunted her successful removal of a curse on the necklace he had gifted to her. Racking her brain, she tried to recall if he had been acting peculiar, but he had done nothing but reading his potions textbook. She turned in her seat to look for any sign from Abraxas, but he stared blankly back at her until she swiveled back to face the front of the classroom.

Shaking her head, she tried to focus on what Slughorn was saying - something about tentacula leaves - but her thoughts were entirely invasive today. Could this absence be similar to the last? Was he perhaps dealing with someone, or having another conniption? Taking swift inventory of the classroom as she retrieved ingredients from Slughorn's desk, she found no one missing other than Riddle. Even more disturbingly, she wondered if he could have possibly had an epiphany about the chamber and be scoping it out, while she sat trapped in here. By all means, he could be opening it right now, she theorized panickedly, her eyes fixed on the door.

But this seemed unlikely. He didn't have the advantage that they did - knowing specifically what the page had said. Instead, he had a purposefully error ridden version that would lead him as far away from the truth as possible. The more she considered it, the more unlikely it seemed that Riddle would make any significant leaps today or any day until she already had. Calming herself with the thought, she finally was able to make clear the instructions Slughorn had written across the chalkboard. Flipping to the correct section, she poured all of her attention into the task.

She began brewing, hindered slightly not having her usual helper. Still, she experimented enough on her own to get by and soon the cauldron was filled with mustard lapping liquid. Squinting at it as she directed it with her wand, she decided it was far too thin, and began adding pinches of beetle powder and it quickly became more like nectar.

Slughorn began rounding the room and came to her desk. Though he walked without apparent purpose, he rarely visited her desk, if only to smile and move on, so she knew when he lingered a moment he had something to say. Afterall, with Abraxas and Alphard brewing together just a few desks behind and Hornby and Susan in the last row, there were more pressing crises to prevent.

"Excellent work Miss Thorpe," Slughorn said brightly, watching her stir with one hand while she charmed her knife to chop boneset leaves. She smiled, nodded and thanked him, and he cleared his throat, "You wouldn't happen to know what became of Mr. Riddle this afternoon, would you?"

"I couldn't say sir," she told him plainly. This time he smiled and nodded, moving on to Avery and Nott's table. Once he had left, Merissa chewed on her lip, knowing even a month ago she would have leapt at the opportunity to add, ' _Though Riddle looked perfectly healthy during lunch'_. Undermining him seemed so petty now, she didn't know why she bothered.

A small part of her mind became available for other ponderings again, the potion mostly completed and it was quick to take up the same topic. While the possibility of Riddle opening the chamber seemed outlandish now that she was calmed, the question still remained, why skip class at all?

Merissa stopped stirring abruptly, splashing a few drops onto the hem of her robes, where it sizzled through the fabric. Blinking rapidly as if the invasive thought would be pushed away, she equally wanted nothing to do with the thought and wanted to bask in it all afternoon. Could the reason for his absence be because their last encounter had affected him too?

It seemed unlikely on first consideration. Riddle was always reserved and cool towards her - as he was to everyone. He cared about no one besides their obedience and what they could give him. They were all dogs to him, and not particularly interesting ones at that. But it was true that she seemed to be the only person who could elicit strong emotions from him, violent or otherwise.

Waving away the smoke,she realized it was from her robes which remained smoldering at spots. She waved her wand to extinguish them absentmindedly, not caring to fix the holes at the moment.

Pursing her lips, she went back to her potion. Though she doubted he lacked the capacity for real emotions, he had wanted to collect her. And maybe that would prove to be a powerful asset. That was all she could consider it - a hand over him. In the end, she needed to use every advantage she had if she wanted to find the chamber before the heir himself.

* * *

 **I'm BACKKK! Sorry for being The Worst and not updating, you know how it be with me and school haha. Its officially been over a year since I published my first chapter! Which is insane, but also just wanted to thank you guys so much, some of you have been with me since the very beginning and some probably just started reading this week but either way I am just so blessed and happy to have such kind and supportive people to talk with(: this story really was my baby and I've been re-reading a lot and even when the parts that I don't like so much, like some earlier chapters just so many memories and hours have been put into this and it had truly inspired me to do so much more literary wise. It opened a door for me that I thought since deciding to be a sciencey major would never really be opened for me so anyways there's my really long winded thank you to everyone(: Also I wanted to apologize from the depths of my heart because when I was looking back I realized I missed some of your guys reviews! Which is even worse than taking a while to update imo and I'm so sorry about that. As most of you have probably noticed I response to reviews every other update but since I missed some from the last I might be changing that because I legitimately feel awful about it. Responses are right below. Until next time, and I will try to make that soon, thank you so much for reading!**

 **arizontea: Hahaha Tom probably applies Abraxas' exorbitant facial peels when no one is in the dormitory, let's be real. Merope willed this child to have only Tom Riddle Senior features and forgot to hope he wouldn't inherit any of her crazy person genes. *Me thinking back to how Merissa almost exactly like her mother except her hair* haha. . . yea that darn JK Rowling. "Riddle's eye narrowed at her from across the table, and as his expression deepend, one eye drifted slowly to the left." On a more serious note, yes Alphard ): he is a sweet summer child, however misconstrued his efforts might be at times. I probably don't need to say, but he will not get what he wants in the end here, and its actually pretty sad. He hasn't done anything wrong, and by all regards him and Merissa would be good with each other in most respects. The biggest issue is just that he lacks the ability to recognize or deal with any of her negative qualities because he idealizes her so much. Thank you so much for reviewing, always hilarious.**

 **Purretzel: I missed responding to your review on 31 I am so sorry! When people review more than once I lump the reponses together and since that happened on either side of your review I missed it entirely, but please know that I read it and cherished it and then when I saw you reviewed again I had a revelation moment when I sat up in bed and realized I hadn't responded to you, oh jeez. I'm so flattered that you made an account to read this, my goodness. That's amazing to hear(: I know I too had that one story that made me actually make an account so I could follow and review as well. I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! It was one of my favorites to write, and I've gone back to the last bit a lot when I need inspiration. The best Tom Riddle story? Ah, you're killing me, thank you, thank you! They have always been my favorite (as you could probably guess) but I was kinda sad that there weren't that many Tom/oc, because for whatever reason I can't read Tom/Hermione. So it was always my goal to make a story that I would want to read so its great to hear that it became that for someone else(: Imaging someone talking about my story is so wild, you have no idea haha, thank you again!**

 **CarolinaFlint: Thank you for your review! I always know its going to be a good one when I see your username (: Haha I love Clarence Day too, I mean obviously I don't _like_ him as a person but as character I have a blast being this dramatic as heck guy with ridiculous fashion sense. I'm happy to hear you liked the squib reveal, I was super back and forth about what he was going to write about, but ultimately I decided having the article be about Alphard would push them together more than I want right now. Ahh so jazzed to put out that last line! I've been sitting on that scene since before I even started posting. You're completely spot on about there being turmoil, particularly in her family now that there's the tension with his run for minister. I'm very excited to post the chapters when she's back home, its been hard not to skip ahead in the timeline and write them. Oh my gosh thank you for the lilt correction, I went back and couldn't believe I had missed it haha. Thank you again for reading! I've been loving your story as well as always (:**

 **daughterofthechief: I missed your review, I'm so sorry! And it was too relatable as well, I love finding a new story that I forgo sleep and school and anything else to read, and I'm so glad my story could be that for you! Tom/Merissa interactions are my favorite, I make it goal to have at least one per chapter because I love writing them, and you all say you love reading them, so absolute win-win. This chapter wasn't too heavy with them, but I swear I have a reason. Always happy for another Tom fan - I'm sure most of us here are, but I really appreciate you saying so(: Happy to hear Merissa comes across a full-bodied character, she's my little brain child and I've really enjoyed the journey of developing her. Fun-fact: she is based off the main character of an original period piecey story I made when I was about 10 about demons haha. Obviously never fit ot see the light of day, but she developed into something more and I like that she's stayed with me. As for your question about canon, yes and no. I know that's a super vague response but its really the best answer I can give. Things like the opening of the chamber, the diary and the theft of Slytherin's locket/the Hufflepuff cup will happen at the same times, however the motivations of everything might not be what HP implies. If you've ever read Green Eyed Monster by sphinxs-legend (and if you haven't, you should because its my end all, be all and Egypt is AMAZING and so kind) I take that approach to canon. Everything 'could' have happened the way the fic is written, there is room for it in canon, just that motivations of certain things were assumed and some details overlooked. The reason some really important events occur or Tom does something really rash or dangerous *COUGH COUGH* is because of something Dumbledore wasn't aware of. I have some really big plans for why Tom is the way he is though and I look so forward to revealing them, and until then, sitting on them like the evil person I am. I hope that answers your question enough! Thank you again for reviewing (:**


	35. Confronts and Cabbages

March 3rd, 1943

He really despised the Greek alphabet.

When he had first decided upon the endeavor of schooling himself in the language, it had been an offhand idea, perhaps somewhat fueled by jealousy, but valid nonetheless. When he imagined leaving the words of Salazar Slytherin himself up to the interpretation to a witch, one out of his house no less, he wondered if his ancestor would have been rather offended at the thought. In fact, he was quite convinced the founder would have been, though he also supposed there was no way that Slytherin could have foreseen that his own family would squander all of the gold within a few meager generations and his heir would have no access to such an education that would allow him to read it himself. They had hardly had instruction on dead language available at Wool's orphanage, unless one considered rather archaic profanities when the materon was drunk.

Perchance better for it too, because Tom hardly had the patience for the letters as it was. There very purpose seemed to be to mock him. The characters where nearly the same in some cases, familiar shapes with the smallest of embellishments popping out from the page, promising a quick comprehension. And that was exactly the problem - at first examination it seemed it should function the same, flow the same with similar sounds.

Quickly, he had realized that was not the case. Though some were familiar, others were entirely alien, and held no place in his schema. Trying to fly through at first, he found the gaps were not the type that would fill themselves in, boundless canyons in his knowledge preventing any of it from making sense.

While learning a new language had always seemed like a worldly and sophisticated thing to do, Tom had never overly considered it. After all, he counted the most important language anyone could know to be Parseltongue, and he had been fortunate enough to be born with that ability. Mastering all forms of magic was priority - the rest would come after undisputable power. Perhaps it was because it never seemed a necessity that he was having such trouble, secluding himself to his dormitory during meals, evenings, even some class hours, obsessing over his inability. There were so many more worthy things that begged his attention, and now all of them were suffering for it.

Even presently he couldn't quite explain why he felt the need to learn such a skill - now of all times.

Thorpe was quite good at translating, after all. He didn't have any doubts in her ability. She had read and copied each word onto the page that was spread across the table now. He had seen in with his very eyes, the prodigy in action. It was nothing less than enviable, the effortlessness she had read the foreign symbols with and the hours, nearing full days now, that he had dedicated to attempting the same feat were nothing short of derogatory.

But there was something so wrong about the page, when he looked at the two side by side - journal and transcription. It was the right amount of words, the same structuring and everything else made sense.

Except it didn't at all.

There was simply nothing there. He couldn't stop obsessing over it, to the point that he had checked out half the library's collection of Greek works and had been pouring over them, attempting to learn the language. Of course, it would all be much easier if he asked Thorpe herself to teach him, but avoiding her smugness was worth the considerable torture. A force beyond his understanding compelled him to translate it on his own, and since spending time in the second floor bathroom was nothing short of nauseating these days, it was well worth the distraction. Perhaps it was just in his nature to be wary of assistance.

 _She_ had seemed useful enough to seek out, however. If he hadn't been so bent on finishing the task at hand, he would have been more irritated about her avoiding him after their altercation. After all, he thought her resilient enough to handle being pushed around a bit. Enough in the past, it seemed, to go right back into antagonizing him after being on the receiving end of his curses.

Now, she chose to be fragile, and it was highly inconvenient.

The tip of his quill bent under the pressure of his hand, and he removed it, frowning at the symbol he had been trying to copy. Easily recognizable, he nearly allowed himself to be content with it. A simple flicker of his eyes comparing it to Thorpe's messier but still decidedly more practiced transcription quelled this brief pleasant feeling. Not nearly good enough, he amended, scowling now as he crumpled up the parchment. Tossing it into the waste bin, he abandoned his quill, taking a book into his lap to read it instead. The English version of the text was already lying open on his desk for comparison, along with a dictionary.

As if attempting this wasn't puinishing enough, the ballads the Greeks had thought important enough to record were not at all to his taste. Likely, this had something to do with his distinct impression they were written by Muggles, the descriptions of magic as a strange and fearsome power. He had been hopeful when a witch had been introduced in one story, seemingly spiteful to Muggles, turning them into beasts, but in the end she had grown fond of the hero as well, and Tom had to retire the book.

Just as he was beginning to settle into a properly gorey war story, his eyes jumping between the three books, the familiar creak of the dormitory door alerted him of company.

His turn of the head was slow, bored, though he didn't like being interrupted. The intruder - Malfoy as turned out - was appropriately sheepish as he moved to retrieve his Charms text off of his bed, so Tom was assured his irritation was plain on his face. Though it made little difference, he still rather enjoyed the hesitancy the blond moved in his presence. Malfoy could be counted on to remember who he was.

"My lord," he ducked his head in greeting, tucking his book into the leather bag at his side.

Tom regarded the boy. His greeting was routine enough. Malfoy always seemed eager to stoop a few inches. Perceptive too, as Tom wasn't particularly fond that the boy had always been just a inch or two taller. Standard as this was, something gave Tom pause. Though he had never paid him enough attention to say what was distinctly different, Abraxas appeared tired - thinner maybe. His eyes were certainly more averted than usual. They were usually so bashfully eager to take him in. Indeed, it was difficult to remember the last time Tom had been in his sole company over the last month, no more than could be counted on one hand, he thought.

"You've been plodding away lately, Malfoy," Tom noted, "Tell me, what keeps you so engaged?"

"There is much, my lord," Abraxas murmured, his eyes fixed on the still pool of water that was the centerpiece of the room, "Classes, quidditch, meetings. I cannot pretend to be as talented as managing it all as you."

"Such . . . flattery," Tom spoke slowly.

Abraxas still refused to meet his eyes, "My lord," he said again, and began out the door.

Before he could evade him, Tom added, rather forcefully, "I will see you tonight then, Malfoy. I look forward to what you will bring to our little gathering."

The boy finally met his smoldering stare, nodded and then left the room. There had been nothing in his expression, but not the kind of nothing that implied no knowledge, or thoughtlessness, instead the kind of nothing that was constructed, carefully built.

Turning back to his desk, Tom sighed and tutted, "Oh, Malfoy. When will you learn . . ."

Returning to his work, largely unphased, he decided to use this solitude to attempt the speaking. He scowled at the strange shapes as he tried to give them life in his mouth, his tongue unfamiliar on the strange sounds. Parseltongue had been much easier.

/_\

Merissa was beside Abraxas as soon as he was back down the stairs from his dormitory, her eyes fixed with predatory focus as she bounded from one of the high-backed chairs to meet him. She hadn't been kept waiting for long, though given his expression something important had passed in the brief minute since he had left her.

"I thought you were going to wait outside," he muttered as she came to stride with him and they exited into the dungeons together. She could tell he was put out that she hadn't listened to him, but she was far more concerned about the underlying paleness of his face. Abraxas was an awful tease with information lately, which only made her more eager to obtain it, despite his protest.

"And leave all the good snooping to you?" she asked incredulously, "Unlikely. What did you see? What is he doing in there?"

"I told you, I wasn't snooping. I forgot my book," he replied stiffly, ignoring all of her quierers.

"Even better," she insisted, her fervor only heightened, "He will sense your sincerity. Now what did you see? Something good if you're not telling me, I'm sure."

"Nothing," he snapped, "He was reading. Anyways Merissa, we need to stop staging these run ins so frequently. He's getting suspicious."

"There's nothing suspicious about getting a bloody book, Malfoy," she retorted. Abraxas didn't look convinced so she added earnestly, "If he knew, we would be dead, simple as that. So he can't know."

Abraxas sighed, but didn't argue any further as they ascended up to the Great Hall, though she wasn't hopeful enough to assume that it meant that he agreed with her. As they entered, they walked the aisle between the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. The decision of which house table to join had become more complicated of late, Merissa actually enjoying Abraxas' company for change and not Susan's. Ultimately, most days it came down to a question between whether she would rather suffer through Edward Thomas or Andrew Nott, a choice which Merissa likened to deciding whether she rather chop off her left or right foot. Thomas had become a constant fixture at Abby's side since they had began going steady, and though she was pleased to see them so happy, she could at least still snub Nott with minimal consequences. This was generally what made the determination to sit at the Slytherin table, and today the same conclusion was drawn, Merissa touching Abby's shoulder in greeting as they passed her blue clad friends.

When they reached their seats, Alphard grinned up from his breakfast. He seemed to have been waiting for them and was quick to dangle a letter from a corner pressed between his thumb and index finger in front of Merissa. It had her name on the front in loopy script and she sighed. While she hadn't thought Clarence Day would send her another collection so soon, she wasn't surprised if he was becoming desperate. She almost told Alphard to chuck it when she realized the stationary was not that of the reporters.

"For me?" she asked, holding out a hand expectantly. She was interested now.

Alphard nodded and swung the envelope like a pendulum, but did not drop it into her outstretched hand. She began to grin as well and tried to make out the sender. Shaking her head when she could not, she refocused her eyes on Alphard's smug grin.

"Who's it from then?" she asked, willing to play along for the intrigue of a mystery letter.

"Guess," he insisted.

Rolling her eyes, she took it from his hand. He made a show of preventing her at first, but a warning glare from Abraxas sobered him. Once she had the letter in her grasp and read the sender, however, her eyes widened and she was quick to rip the top open.

 _Dearest Miss Thorpe,_

 _We hope this letter finds you well. We received your samples several weeks ago, but due to complications related to Muggle air raids, we have been unable to contact you until this time. Let us begin by saying how impressed we were in your creations. New inventions are in high demand in these trying times, and we were thrilled to see such young talent. We would like to offer you a full time apprenticeship this coming summer at our facilities and begin giving samples of your variation polyjuice potion for our board to try if you could send us more. This being said, we are bonded by certain business technicalities that we must discuss with you if we are to begin selling your product, as we would very much like to._

 _Firstly, we will require a signature from your guardians, as you are not of age. Attached is a form, which either you or your guardian can return in the earliest convenience. Secondly, we ask that you have an experienced potioneer watch over your work. As you are lucky enough to have Horace as your professor, he will be more than acceptable._

 _Thirdly, purely for the preservation of the Slevin reputation, we will have to ask you to use an alias as a seller on our labels. May we suggest Oliver Smith? I'm sure you understand, given the current climate why we do not wish to advertise being affiliated._

 _We think you will find these terms to be agreeable, so please contact us as soon as possible with a response._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Markus and Eliot Slevin_

 _Founders and Owners of Slevin Brother's Apothecaries_

"Well? What does it say?" Alphard demanded, almost bouncing in his seat as he tried to see over Merissa's shoulder, which she continuously adjusted to block him, her eyes scanning down the page again.

Her face her melted down into a stiff base, revealing nothing, but she felt her heart thumping - or perhaps lumping - in the base of her throat. Behind her, Abraxas' eyes met the end of the parchment soon after her's did, a clear view over her with her attention so focused on evading Alphard's gaze.

"Deny them," Abraxas said quietly and her eyes darted to him, quickly realizing he had seen. He made no indication that he had said anything, calmly beginning to fill her plate as he always did. Anyone watching wouldn't have been able to tell anything was amiss.

"Why?" she hissed back, tucking the letter under her leg to prevent Alphard from further attempts. She barely heard his noises of protest over her own ruminating. Though it had not been a rejection, she was ashamed of it. The disapproval of the press and witches of no consequence did not bother her, but she had never considered how professionally it might affect her. Her father seemed to be right, for once. Image was everything in business.

"You may not like it, but you are your name," Abraxas murmured back.

Alphard was looking miffed, knowing them well enough to recognize that they were indeed talking, even if they were showing no obvious signs of it. She gave him a small smile and then turned from him entirely, focusing as best she could on something Druella was saying a few seats down.

As she began eating (mostly to appease Abraxas who was giving her imploring looks between bites of his own) Alphard shifted towards her, bumping into her arm as he reached for the gravy boat, dousing the steaming biscuits with it. She was acutely aware of his proximity.

"Who taught you your table manners, hm?" she teased, flicking his arm.

"A hippogriff, my mother would claim," he bantered back, either ignoring or not aware of her meaning.

She took out her book bag, deciding she had eaten enough and that it would make a proper barrier between herself and his shoulder, quell her racing mind she hoped. Taking out her Charms homework had the added advantage of an excuse to avoid anymore conversation. The chattering had begun picking up around her, and the request from Slevin had put her in a mood.

Quickly she began questioning the wisdom of this decision however, the topic being wand etiquette, which she was awful at. She silently cursed this being the assignment she had pulled out, not wanting to openly struggle - least of all in front of Tom Riddle, who had recently taken a seat across from her. She began scratching away making up fluff as she went, taking lengthy breaks in between lines to let the ink dry.

"Pass the kettle?" Alphard requested.

She nodded absentmindedly, coming off her seat ever so slightly when she did so. Almost instantly she realized this had been a strategic request as she felt the envelope shift under her leg. Sitting down as quickly as she could whilst pushing his hand away, she managed to secure the parchment back under her again.

She would have been certain that someone would have noticed their exchange, except for the fortune that Druella had started choking on her pumpkin juice at that very moment, probably laughing too zealously at something Andrew had said. Everyone glanced at her with concern as Avery attempted to help her and Nott looked on with a rather disgusted expression.

Merissa glanced around the table, still slightly paranoid. Apparently, it wasn't misplaced either, because Riddle was watching her. She blushed slightly, realizing what he must have assumed from her and Alphard's exchange and turned her eyes back to safer territory.

"I'm fine," Druella insisted, catching Merissa's attention again. The mousy-haired girl had tears running down her face from coughing, and was still gasping slightly, "Just need a moment."

Merissa watched her mildly as she dashed away, and started to stand. Even if she didn't particularly like Druella, she was clearly upset.

"You're the last person she wants to see her like that, save maybe Nott," Abraxas reminded, pulling her back down smoothly.

She allowed him, knowing this was true. When she thought about it, Druella had never done anything to earn her disdain - save being a bit shallow. She didn't deserve to be antagonized.

"Isn't that true," Avery laughed, clapping Nott on the back, "You and Rosier."

Druella's brother, just a few seats down had turned scarlet, his chin almost touching the table as he attempted to make himself even smaller, sinking below it. Merissa felt a twinge as she regarded the speccy top of his thin forehead, realizing he was preparing himself if his sister's actions somehow were to see reflected on himself. They were always so harsh with Davao - it was easy to be when he was so much smaller than the rest of them. Almost seemed to be the natural order of things.

Andrew, however, appeared annoyed, straightening the page of the broom catalogue he was scanning with a impaint flick of his wrist, "I have given her no reason to value my opinion so highly," he said shortly, with much more formality than he usually used with his teammates.

He had been in an uncharacteristically severe mood since the release of the article. He lacked the pluck to engage heavily with anyone involved in controversy, so Druella had become a near constant companion in Merissa's absence. Not that she minded.

"Are you mad?" Avery argued, gaping at him incredulously, "She's one of the most attractive girls in our house. What more could you ask for?" The older Rosier twin sunk deeper still, nearly below the table now.

"There are hardly _any_ girls in our house, Phillip," Andrew argued, pushing back his sand colored hair. A few stray strands returned to his forehead almost at once, making him frown. He tried to part his hair effortlessly, all too obviously inspired by Tom, but lacked the persistence to get it right, a sad imitation at best.

"Never stopped you before," Abraxas countered, slightly blocking Merissa from his view.

She wondered if he even realized he was doing it, or if defending her was second nature to him now. She appreciated it as she tried to keep her eyes on her nearly completed Charms homework, still aware of Riddle's vigilant stare. She couldn't for the life of her remember the next word she had meant to scribble down and she knew it would not come to when she was so entirely focused on keeping every muscle still, so she stared at the direct center of the page.

"There are, in fact, other houses, Malfoy," Nott said slyly.

Merissa felt an uncomfortable urge to laugh. This situation had become far too awkward as Alphard also seemed to draw closer too, as if to obscure her from Andrew's view and therefore mind. Her eyes went up and finally met Riddle's. He looked like he also might laugh, possibly because only a sliver of her was visible between the two boys, and possibly because even through the sliver she looked squished as both of their shoulders were pressed against her. The rare expression made his face light up for a moment, making her heart pound. Her face naturally returned the expression. Then, as soon as it came, it was gone and they both looked away from each other.

"Do you three need to go outside and work something out?" Phillip asked exasperatedly, glancing between Abraxas, Andrew and Alphard. It was hard for Merissa to believe no one else had noticed the change, and she thought she might have imagined it. This was enough, it seemed for Andrew to abandon the confrontation although but Abraxas continued to glower through Avery's words, "I am tired of this tension and you're crushing your girlfriend."

Abraxas turned to Merissa, realizing this was true and scooted back over. Meanwhile, Tom's usual cool facade had returned as he addressed his devotees, "I hardly think that will be necessary, Avery. Right Nott, Malfoy?"

"Of course," Nott agreed immediately. He was hardly one to disagree with Riddle, least of all on one of his fleetings fancies.

Abraxas pressed his lips together as he looked at Riddle, "It seems unlikely," he finally conceded. Merissa personally wished they would both let it go before Tom ended up murdering someone, just to be done with it.

"We should go," Abraxas determined, glancing at his watch as he took his last bite of breakfast. Apparently the tension wasn't lost to him either, "You wouldn't want to be late for herbology. You will be planting the cabbages back in the gardens today."

Merissa felt her body snap into action, rolling up her scroll and depositing her book back inside her bag, before her mind had caught up from the shock that had been the briefest of exchanges with Riddle and - feeling a bit of an idiot - she replied as quickly as she could.

"Good riddance," she sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and accepting Abraxas' hand to pull herself to her feet, "Nasty thing nearly took out my thumb last week. I hope we work on something less aggressive next, like a venomous tentacula."

Abraxas gave her a strange look but didn't say anything until the heavy oak doors of the castle had closed behind them. She could tell he was about to berate her so she hurried ahead down the stone steps, hoping if they could get to their destination first he would forget.

"Less aggressive like a tentacula?" he demanded, lengthening his strides to keep up with her hasty pace.

"Its all that came to my mind!" she defended. A brief scan of the grounds behind her confirmed no one was there for the actual Herbology class yet, so she squeezed behind the greenhouse, continuing, "You should have known better than to try to talk plants with me."

"You are apparently going to herbology," Abraxas sighed after her, ducking into the small shed used for greenhouse storage as well.

They had made this place their meeting place for most mornings, the most inconspicuous place they could fathom, still comfortably close to their actual class destinations. It was damp and smelled strongly of the soil that was kept inside, but it was safe, and that much could not be said about any place in the castle.

Merissa put up several wards before turning back to Abraxas expectantly. He sighed and turned his eyes up the the rafters, pulling his fingers through his silvery blond hair.

"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked, almost as if he were speaking to a higher power. Merissa scoffed.

"I want you to tell me what you've been telling me. Has he done anything from his normal routine? Does he still leave to go visit that bathroom at odd hours of the night? Has he said anything in his sleep lately? We need clues on how close he is, Abraxas. Until I learn enough Parseltongue to open the chamber and wrangle whatever is in there we need to have a sense of where he is."

She gazed up at him, desperately willing him to understand how important this was. He had been reluctant lately and she knew exactly why. Now that they were both in Riddle's favor it was harder to justify risking so much to stop him. Abraxas so desperately wanted Riddle to do the right thing, he had convinced himself that he would.

"Nothing had changed in his schedule, Mer," he insisted, "That's not just something I say in less protected places, I mean it. I'm not sure of anything except that he hasn't opened it yet."

"Of course," Merissa said pointedly, "That doesn't mean he hasn't figured it out. He could just be waiting for an opportune moment."

"Yes," Abraxas admitted, "It could."

Merissa sighed again and began pacing in the small space like a confined animal. That was how she felt so often now, waiting for something to happen, for them to be discovered, for them to win, whatever happened first. She knew Abraxas' resolve was slipping and she knew that the greatest risk was him becoming afraid.

"What does he say in his sleep?" she asked again.

"Nothing," Abraxas repeated, "I don't know. He just hisses for a second or two. It's probably Parseltongue."

"That's not nothing!" Merissa insisted, angry that he was being so dismissive. A ripple of her annoyance shook some soil down on them.

"Its nothing helpful," Abraxas frowned, brushing his cloak off. He glanced up to see her hopeful expression, adding quickly, "And no Merissa I will not sneak you into my dormitory to listen to him hiss in his sleep. Don't ask."

Merissa bit her lip. She was getting too emotional if her thoughts were written so plainly on her face. She considered still making an argument for that tactic but Abraxas' jaw was hard set, so she surrendered.

"Let me give you the cloaks," Abraxas insisted, "I know my bag is bigger but I can't stand having them in my room with Riddle so close by all the time. It makes me too nervous."

She accepted the bundle of silvery cloth from him, shoving it beneath her books without argument. Abraxas could have these little victories if he liked them. All she cared was that he didn't abandon their cause entirely, because more than needing someone on the inside even, she needed someone on _her_ side. It was lonely keeping so many secrets. Not even Abraxas was she completely honest with.

Replacing her bag on her shoulder she gazed at him expectantly, hoping he might tell her more now that she was being agreeable. For moment, he seemed like he wanted to say something, but then it passed as quickly as it came and he pushed open the door for her, less a gentlemanly act than an expression that he was done talking about this. Rather defeated, Merissa allowed herself to be escorted to Herbology.

Once inside the muggy greenhouse, she was joined by Susan, and was planning on not saying a word until Abby and James arrived, as was custom. But after a vague good morning, the taller girl put her head down on her bag and allowed her satiny hair to obscur half of her face, eyes closed already.

Merissa hadn't studied Susan's face in a while, or been so close to her for that matter, but now that she was, she discovered the girl did not look the same. Her skin had lost some of it's bronze glow, favoring a color that was almost grey. This only made the bags under her eyes more prominent, and her shoulders were uncharacteristically slumped against the greenhouse table. Susan Nigellus, the very definition of vigor, appeared entirely worn down.

Trying to distract herself from the unpleasant tightness that had suddenly developed in her throat, Merissa busied herself with preparing the materials for the day, pleased when she collected their cabbage, hoping to bury it deep in the earth. Placing the vegetative mass, still asleep onto the table, she caught sight of the wreckage that were Susan's hands, beat and calloused from the quaffle she so commonly spent her afternoons lobbing at Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor match was upcoming, and according to Abby's carefully laid remarks, no one had been training longer or more brutally than Susan.

Merissa yanked off her dragonhide gloves and discarded them on the table to give herself something to do, figuring she wouldn't need them again until after a lecture about not murdering the cabbages. The rest of the class was slow to trickle in, and even craning her neck, Merissa couldn't see any signs of Abby's vibrant curls. Chewing on her tongue, she simply couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Prewett learned a new maneuver," she finally blurted out.

Susan raised her head, surprise evident on her face. Merissa's word's continued tumbling off her tongue, "He can barrel roll on his broom, not to dodge but to throw the quaffle in the opposite direction than it appears he will."

Susan was looking increasingly flabbergasted, but Merissa refused to meet her expression, coughing consciously instead. A few beats later, they were joined by Abby and James, saving them from being swallowed alive by the thick silence.

"I am about ready to keel over if that's what it takes to get a break around here," Abby griped, pulling out her copy of _One-Thousand and One Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , "Do you think jumping into the Poisonous Prickly Pear would give me a few days in the hospital wing?"

Merissa grinned, "St. Mungo's, if you're lucky."

Abby sighed as if the idea were romantic, as Susan reminded her, "We have just over a month until Easter holiday now. Don't get any crazy ideas."

"Forty-four days, not including today," James quipped as if this were offhand knowledge. No one batted an eye at this anymore.

Professor Assleman entered shortly after and gave the expected speech - the cabbages had to stay intact until they were in the ground. Merissa distinctly remembered hearing Alex Prince had blow up his cabbage with a firework a few years back and guessed that was why the professor was saying the words with so much intensity.

As the shuffling of the class began, sprinkling their cabbages with a mixture of ice plant juice and dirt to preserve them, Susan turned to Merissa rather hesitantly.

"Your birthday is coming up as well," she noted, "Just after the holiday begins."

Merissa wished she would have insisted on being the one preparing their cabbage now, because she had nothing to do but watch Abby, "It is," she agreed crisply.

"Are you spending it with Abraxas?" Susan asked.

Merissa narrowed her eyes as the cabbage attempted one final time to cleave off one of James's fingers as he gently patted the mixture onto its sides. She didn't know what Susan was getting at, but if she thought giving her a birthday gift would remedy the betrayal to Clarence Day, she was wrong.

"I am," Merissa affirmed, although no plans were made yet. She was expecting once she returned home her mother would all but chain her to her bed frame until it was time to join the Malfoy's at the Black home in London. Her expectations were grim for how she would spend her sixteenth birthday.

Susan nodded, pulling on her gloves as well and beginning to follow James - who was holding the vicious plant at arm's length as he proceeded out the door. Abby and Merissa followed, Abby still grumbling about the lack of concern Asselman seemed to have for their fingers. Outside, other groups were placing their cabbages carefully into holes Asselman and his assistant had dug prior to class for them. Elizabeth Springer and her friends were already finished and the girl waved at Merissa as she passed by. Merissa returned it with a smile. Most people, it seemed, had decided the scandal was either old news or codswallop, as the reporter's intentions became clearer every day.

"Why do you ask, Nigellus?" Merissa finally bit, as they observed James' entombing the vegetable back into the earth.

"I noticed you spend a lot of time with him now," Susan shrugged, though she clearly thought more of it, because she was watching Merissa sidelong.

Merissa reached down a gloved hand into the dirt as they began to cover their project with soil. In the hole, now coated in earthworms and damp earth, it shook, attempting to brush itself off. Clearly, it wasn't fond of the idea of spending the spring underground. Watching it bought her some time to consider what Susan might be after. Although it would have been easier to think Susan was still chasing dirt, Merissa logically knew it was far more likely she was simply curious. After the rather explosive start of the term between Abraxas and herself, it was simple to see how confusing it would seem to someone, them sneaking away together, apparently to snog at all hours of the day.

"Abraxas is everything a young man should be," Merissa told her, tone flat, "He's handsome, well-mannered and ambitious. I couldn't hope to find a better match."

"He is," Susan agreed. Merissa could tell she didn't buy any it it.

Merissa's frustration was furtherer, if anything, because it was true as well. Abraxas was all of those things, and despite his preferences, she was quite lucky. With him she could expect comfort, entertainment and an agreeable match for as long as she lived. Though some might fault him on the fact they would likely never have children or that it would be an uncomfortable process if they did, Merissa had never put enough thought into the idea to be attached to it.

Rather, what Merissa knew absolutely was the crux of the matter was that marrying Abraxas terrified her. Even the most benevolent husband was still just that: a husband. While this meant all sorts of things to different people, to Merissa it only meant one - the death of her self. Marriage, a household, children, all of it was a cage by another name. Some women flourished under it, rose above it and found joy in it. Women who were made for such things were far and plenty. But then there were all types of people, and as much as some liked to pretend otherwise, women were no exception. There were the other type of women, like Merissa's own mother. Merissa had seen the photographs taken in her youth, and with the black and white washing away her auburn hair, she was a spitting image of Merissa, perhaps the most disturbing similarity a protruded chin. Rosalynn Thorpe - by all accounts other than from her parents - had been a proud talented witch when she was younger. That was Merissa's worst fear, to become her own mother. She would rather bury her soul the way they buried the chomping cabbage, pleased to be rid of it.

Class was dismissed shortly after they had all returned inside, and Merissa walked alongside James's on the way back up the the castle, hoping Abby's gabbing would keep Susan from asking her anymore questions.

"How is your research going?" Merissa asked James. The last few early morning classes she had missed him around the forest, though she allowed it was probably because she was hardly there in anything except body.

"Complicated," James explained, "Merrythought made it clear actually meeting the centaurs is out of the question, so I've been cataloging their hoof prints. Interesting, the changes they have in how far or close they stay from the center of the forest given celestial events. Aries stays low in the sky, yet they seek its rise every week."

Merissa frowned, recalling that was incorrect from Astronomy, but didn't correct him. If anyone could decipher the star gazing patterns of these creatures, it would be him.

"How is your's going? I notice your path takes your deeper still into the forest," he commented.

Apparently he was corrected about her migration patterns at least, "I'm trying to track down a hinkypunk. I keep thinking I see one but the light goes out before I can be sure," she smiled ironically, "I suppose that's the point of the little goblins though."

James nodded again and they lapsed into comfortable silence.

Heading back into the castle, Merissa caught sight of a familiar mousy head of hair and excused herself from her friends, quickly catching up with Druella Rosier, also in route for the dungeons.

"Headed to potions?" Merissa asked brightly, her tone sounding artificial even to her own ears. She wanted to wince at the sound but smiled at the girl instead.

"Oh hello, Merissa!" Druella greeted. Her voice also had more edge than usual.

"I was worried about you, you ran off after breakfast," Merissa told her, deciding that hedging around the topic was pointless when the girl was so obviously still thinking about it.

Druella was silent for a moment, but before Merissa could gauge her expression she laughed a high pitch peal, just a few seconds too delayed, "That was nothing!"

Merissa didn't respond, just tightened her lips and stared ahead, uncomfortable already but knowing she - as a reasonably decent person - should help this girl. More to the point, she knew she was compelled to do this, especially because of the terrible clenching of her stomach when she thought about how she had failed to notice Susan's affections for Alphard and subsequently snogged him . . . twice.

"I see the way you look at Nott," Merissa said slowly. She couldn't help but remember his biting words about Druella this morning. Andrew really was a pig.

"And?" Druella challenged, suddenly uncharacteristically aggressive. Merissa stared at her but the sneer was gone in a blink, she swore she must have imagined it, "Sorry, I meant, what do you mean?" she lowered her voice conspiratorially, a gleaning smile on her face, "Do you fancy him?"

"No," Merissa said firmly, stopping herself from explaining why she would never be interested in such a person. That would hardly be constructive, when Druella felt the way she did, "I've just noticed."

"I think he notices you a lot more," Druella lamented.

That seemed an understatement, but again, would be less than helpful to say out loud. Merissa missed Susan despite herself. She might also be daft with boys, but at least she never got this sad puppy expression over them. What was she supposed to tell her, interested in someone as useless as Nott? It felt almost irresponsible to encourage it.

"I don't care about anyone except Abraxas," Merissa assured her astutely, "I want to help you."

Druella stared at her with considerable surprise. Merissa wondered if she found her being eager to do so more surprising or that she would have insight on such things. The girl appeared impressed at the very least.

"Nott likes when you listen, but he also likes to feel like he's chasing something," Merissa told her, rather undertone. She didn't fancy Olive Hornby , or even worse, Nott himself, getting ahold of the idea she was after Andrew Nott.

"You think it would help if he felt like he's chasing me?" Druella clarified, frowning.

"Yes," Merissa nodded, grateful she was catching on quickly, "Just for a little, see how that goes. Don't make it actually difficult for him of course, juts make him feel like it is."

He doesn't want an actual challenge, Merissa thought, rolling her eyes internally.

"Okay," Druella agreed, trepidation clear in her voice, though connotated with some determination. She revered Merissa and therefore her advice, it seemed.

Merissa smiled at her encouragingly as they entered the potions classroom and she took her place at her table, Riddle still absent. A few desks down, Merissa heard Druella begin chatting with Avery who was at Nott's desk, but not Andrew himself. Smirking to herself, Merissa began organizing her kit. Only then did she glance at Tom's seat.

It had been three days since she had spoken to him and though she swore she didn't care, she nearly sighed in relief when he entered the room, taking his seat beside her without a second glance.

"Riddle," she greeted him curtly, though her mood was greatly improved under her clipped tone.

"Thorpe."

His voice was the same disinterested drawl and her eyes flickered inadvertently to his face. He appeared the same as ever, not the slightest change in expression as he prepared his work space as well. He stood to collect their materials from the front of the class before she had come up with something else to say and she felt a bubble of annoyance rise in her chest. He really wasn't going to explain his absence then? After being absent from potions Friday and Arithmancy this morning, cancelling the his group meeting all after threatening her, he had nothing to say to her. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she was.

Merissa stewed while they began preparing their ingredients, and she kept her thoughts to herself until steam began rising from their cauldron. Eyes narrowed at him as he carefully shredded ingredients, her irritation with his blaise attitude increasing with each swift, controlled motion of his hand.

"You were gone last class," she finally said, watching him throw a handful of grated poppy stems into the brew.

He looked up at her, his dark eyes meeting hers across the dancing rings of steam. He tilted his head to one side as he considered her, "I was," he agreed as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Why was that?" she asked pointedly.

He raised his eyebrows at her, "I was otherwise engaged."

"Obviously," she snapped. His nonchalance was infuriating. She began skinning their figs with unnecessary violence. He was still watching her as if she were the lesson instead of the potion. She felt horribly conflicted about it.

"I just thought you were avoiding me," she admitted, nearly slicing her finger off with a rather viciously stab of her knife into the fruit. His hands took the fig and knife from her and was slicing with much more care before she could argue. The exchange was managed without even the slightest brush of fingers, Tom careful as ever. He didn't berate her for trying to murder their potions ingredients, at least.

"While rather irritating when you're being insolent, otherwise your company is less than disagreeable," he said smoothly, his eyes contained by his project.

She wanted to stare at him, try to deconstruct his expression, but she stopped herself. It wouldn't be useful, and sometimes now when she looked at him she noticed how straight his facial features were, which was entirely besides the point. Instead she just continued stirring, if not somewhat less ferociously. By the time she was done, the potion was nearly finished.

"It looks passable," he admitted, peering into the pewter cauldron to the amber contents, spinning like a tiny whirlpool under Merissa's practiced hand.

 _Its looks perfect_ she thought indignantly, but considering this thought she stopped herself from replying. This type of exchange was exactly the same as it had been for months. She had thought this very thought before after a similar comment. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it did.

Gathering her materials she gave him a saccharine smile, "You don't mind bottling and cleaning up today, do you Riddle?" she simpered.

His might as well hissed at her with his expression, but he didn't dare deny her request with Slughorn in earshot. His eyes flickered calculatingly between her and their professor before saying rather loudly, in the voice he reserved for class, "Why of course, Thorpe. I don't mind in the slightest."

She gave him rather twisted smile before departing from the room. Still unsettled at her own reaction, Merissa dropped her bag off in her dormitory before she made refuge in the library, and was allowed an hour of solitude before Riddle sought her out.

"I was under the impression our last conversation made things quite clear," he sneered, making her start from her Transfiguration paper.

Though she had been downright agitated when she had entered the room, after a few minutes of working meticulously through the next weeks homework she had regained a sense of control and by now was feeling rather serene. That was, up until she met his gaze and felt irked all over again. A sneer was a disgusting look on his face. She glared back down at her parchment where she had now spotted with ink in her fright.

"Quite clear," she snapped, while fanning the ink to dry, although she was perfectly aware the last conversation was exactly why she had lashed out.

"Then why, exactly, was I subjected to staying behind to clean up your mess?" he questioned, a hand covering the page she was referencing and pulling it away from her when she attempted to return to her work.

She rolled her eyes up at him, "Honestly Riddle, I think you can handle corking a vial," she mocked, reaching a hand out for her book. He moved it farther away.

"The question is not if I can, but rather if I should have to," he scoffed, holding her eyes sternly.

She glared at him, "You're a real arse, you know that?"

He continued looking at her with disdain, the flash of his eyes only momentary, "I can hardly be bothered with your opinion of me, as long as you stop this nonsense. I won't be so lenient next time I find you insubordinate."

This time, it was Merissa who scoffed. As she considered him, leaned over the table supported on his arms, she couldn't help but feel this was all they had been doing all year. Even if he had changed the name of the game, it was still just that - a game. A deadly game that she had been sucked up into before she realized what it was. A game she still didn't know the rules to or even the objective. And despite all of her efforts, she was still losing, no upper hand to hold no matter how she grasped at them, her popularity, the chamber, his secrets. Tom Riddle was always one step ahead, raging forward, uncaring, calculated. Playing didn't serve anyone except him.

"I thought this would be different," she muttered, snatching up her parchment and ink. Making any more progress today seemed unlikely now that she was so thoroughly ruffled. She didn't like that he had so much power over her, to derail her entire day.

"Why would anything be different?" he asked.

Her stomach turned uneasily. Worse still was the consideration he might not be doing anything, and she instead was creating it in her mind. She wanted to believe she wasn't so delusional, yet Tom made a good argument. Why, even if she had imagined nothing, would anything be different? She huffed, snatching back her Transfiguration textbook as she walked out.

He was right, even if he hadn't meant to be. Tom was unchanging, though he was impulsive, he never altered in state, like a rock in the ocean being pounded against by the waves. Even if half submerged by water, one could tell the quality of it by looking at the top. Tom wasn't good, and she was as foolish as Abraxas if she pretended otherwise.

He wasn't good for anyone, especially not her.

Merissa glanced at the entrance to the dungeon as she passed by. She was supposed to meet Abraxas but now the idea was entirely unappealing, so she continued on up the steps to the Ravenclaw common room. She had expected to just plant herself in bed until dinner time, and she made it all the way through the airy common room, up the stairs and into her dormitory before she realized this wouldn't be possible. Her bed was already occupied, someone sitting on it, waiting for her.

"Would you like to explain yourself, Merissa Rose?" Susan snapped and for a moment Merissa was going to laugh at the use of her middle name, something her mother called her when upset, almost exclusively.

But then she realized just how serious the girl's expression was. Merissa blinked, recognizing her bag crumpled on the floor, its contents spilled out and the silvery cloak in Susan's fist. Merissa felt the blood drain from her face, and indeed from her entire head it seemed as she stared, unable to come up with an acceptable explanation for a few telling moments. Susan's expression became more incredulous still, prompting Merissa to sputter out lies faster than she knew she could.

"If you must know, Nigellus, sometimes Abraxas and I fancy a bit of privacy," she snapped, pulling the silvery fabric from the girl with as much affront as she could.

Susan raised her eyebrows and turned to continue watching Merissa as she stuffed the cloaks back into her bag, the rest of the contents on top.

"Why would you need two cloaks if you were sneaking off to snog anyways?" Susan asked, though her tone was almost rhetorical.

Merissa scoffed, giving herself a moment as she pretended to search for a book from the pile on her desk, "Sometimes we come from different parts of the castle."

"Right," Susan agreed, moving onto Merissa's desk, "Then you would both have one."

Merissa gave her a warning look as she turned to her bed, adamantly avoiding the girl's eyes for too long. She considered making a break for the door, but Susan was much faster than her, and even if she did make it, no doubt the girl would continue questioning her in the much less private common room.

"Why would you hide them so carefully from us then?" the taller girl drilled tenaciously, "And what are you going off to do in them anyways?"

"Well obviously I need some added privacy with someone as nosy as you around," Merissa snapped, feeling rather exhausted as she rounded on the girl, "And I've already told you, we go off to neck for a while."

Susan's face remained unimpressed, "I really don't see why you would need to sneak off to neck when neither of you are attracted to each other."

Merissa sputtered at the allegation indignantly, but she felt the blood pooling in her limbs from shock and a moment later she had to catch herself on a bedpost, prevented from making any meaningful argument against the claim.

Apparently it was obvious how she was feeling because Susan moved forward quickly to help her onto her bed before her knees could buckle.

"Merlin, Re, what did you do?" Susan whispered, pulling her into a gentle embrace and patting her hair. Merissa inhaled rather raggedly, forcing her back to remain upright. If only Susan knew.

* * *

 **Hola reader fam. Here my patented apology for taking so long to update, I really wanted this chapter to be good and long so I worked on it a lot, I hope it was(: It was 10k words which I think may be a record for a chapter here, so that's exciting. Thank you for everyone who has followed and favorited and reviewed since my last update. You all have been so wonderful about reviewing lately, though I usually respond at the end of every other update, I am responding here so I don't miss any. Someone sent me a passive aggressive anon about my review responses taking up too much space? Which I'm definitely never going to apologize for, giving through responses to people who take the time to review, but that is why I put these at the end of the chapter now, so they are out of the way, so chill whoever that was.**

 **Please tell me what you think of this chapter - I know its my first cliffhanger of sorts! The next chapter will start off with a Susan POV of what happens directly after this so I look forward to posting that! As I'm going through, I'm thinking of incorporating more of Susan and Abraxas POV, what do you all think of that? Has the Abraxas been good so far? I don't know, I like writing from him but if its not working I want to know. In general I would love to hear what your predictions are about how the rest of this conversation with Merissa and Susan will pan out and anything else. Anyways on that note, here is to my wonderful reviewers:**

Purretzel **: No, thank _you_ for your review! Haha. I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long with this update when you said you were dying for the next chapter, I really tried not to. Also, in this chapter you have your answer for what he was doing during potions. I'm an OC or die kind of person, so I completely understand where you're coming from. I will never for the life of me understand why OC is so stigmatized when there is Harry/Sorting Hat fics out there (not to hate its just not my cup of tea and beyond that just boggles my mind). Anyways don't mean to rant in your response at all, especially when it was so kind. Thank you again for taking the time to review!**

beefsupreme: **I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I can now openly say how much I love Susan as a character. I look so forward to giving her the fleshing out and dimension that she deserves. Merissa is a sass queen indeed, like I've said before she writes herself. Tom had been awfully sneaky, and I can tell you he is up to more than one something right now. We may or may not see the conversation between him and Slughorn from the memory coming up soon here. Thank you for your review!**

beaniebun **: Haha, glad I could make you laugh! I love writing Tom's inner monologue, he's just great. So happy you enjoyed chapter 15, its controversial and I actually lost a fair amount of followers when I posted it and had a hard time about that at the time. Its nice to be here now and feel confident about it, because I know its what I wanted to happen, and it had meaning for both characters. Abraxas and his little puppy dog eyes break my heart and warm it simultaneously. Definitely plenty of respect between Merissa and Tom, once they got to that impasse of realizing they were matched. Its so interesting to hear the conflicting opinions on Alphard, truly did not expect him to be so polarizing(: Lots more coming so I hope you continue to enjoy! Thank you for your review.**

src **: Let me just take a moment to say how much I enjoyed seeing your reviews come in one after another. It was a blast, I'm so happy to see how people recieve my story in the beginning and how that progresses. Let me also warn you that I am going** to **do my best to respond to all your reviews here, right now. When I was going down the reviews I needed to respond to, when I got to yours I had to double check I hand't gone too far down the page, because I have read them so many times now (as you left them quite a while ago and I haven't updated in so long, whoops) that I had already replied in my mind. I was absolutely thrilled to see someone got into the story just two chapters in. That writing was from over a year ago now and sometimes I feel like it isn't at the level it should be, but I appreciate you saying so. I try to make Merissa a believable human being, so I'm glad she comes across as dimensional. You got Abraxas being gay so early! Ah! It was also my intention that he would be but most people were absolutely shocked when I revealed it. I just think that's so cool you noticed so quickly(: Him and Alphard are struggling along here and let me tell you, it wont be an easy road for either of them, having feelings for who they do. Abraxas is about to have a huge test upon him relating to his feelings for Tom and how conflicted he is about them. As for the story having no happy ending, a lady never tells. Being invested hahaha I know it all too well. I spend so much time thinking about this story. Merissa and Tom have tension but at this point I would still call it more plain tension than sexual tension. Merissa is becoming pretty confused (and in denial) with everything that she's feeling but Tom? Don't know that he recognizes anything yet, except for the fact that she's too useful to kill and something about her infuriates him. More recently a touch clearer, him calling her coddling with Abraxas nauseating. But all in good time. Also he's just entirely emotionally incompetent.**

 **On the topic of Thomas, yes Thomas! That's so funny that it reminded you of that movie, I've never heard of that movie but I might have to look into it now(: He's great, its fun making someone so entirely absurd when most of the characters are so serious. Obviously she hasn't been introduced yet, but Abraxas' mother will be a similar character, as the crying over Merissa and sending her nearly grown son sparkly robes might imply.**

 **Seriously never apologize for reviewing no matter the circumstances, I LOVED reading them so much especially again the progression throughout the chapters. Also quoting lines back to me, nearly made me tear up, agh. I actually have been playing with the idea of an orphanage run in, since she wanders the cities when she's bored over holidays. Nothing written yet, but anything can happen, especially when I have encouragement like that(: I can guarantee that Merissa and Tom will have mutual impact on each other more than anyone else in their lives.**

 **It was so fun to read that you preferred Susan over Alphard, especially when I had this chapter mostly finished already with Susan coming back around. You make a good point with Susan standing up to Tom being more valuable than an apology. I think the fact that Susan went back to berating her right after nulled the fact in her mind, but you're right. Its been hard having them mad at each other for so long when I friendship ship them so hard. Again, looking very forward to giving Susan her moment. A lot of Merissa's preference for men as company stems from her relationship with her father, which will be explained in a lot more depth in a few chapters time. Essentially since she's never gotten his approval, she looks for it in figures she likens to him. Although I will say, Merissa loves Susan more than Abraxas or Alphard, and vice versa.**

 **Interesting likening with Alphard as well, I'm sorry to hear that happened to you. I can definitely see how that would make a negative impact on him as a character. Even in this chapter we see him being flirty. All I can say is that Alphard will obviously not be endgame or game at all, and I hope that is a good reassurance. Can I ask, what's your opinion on Nott? I'm intrigued now. Polyjuice you say? Yes there will be plenty of that haha.**

 **I really like the comparison of Abraxas to Jaime Lannister. I totally get that.**

 **Tom never being loved or trusted by anyone was such an important point! I absolutely believe that he was made into a monster and not born one. Even Dumbledore, or maybe particularly Dumbledore was so suspicious of him, and maybe rightfully so and maybe not but either way the bitterness in which he talks about it ("he certainly kept an annoying close eyes on me"). And in the way in this story when we see him preparing himself for Dumbledore to more or less pass by his transfiguration despite it being the best, which I think goes along well with your idea that he wants to matter. I would almost argue he wants to punish people who don't think he matters. I want to get so much more into this but I'm looking at how long this is becoming and ah probably annoying to read this much.**

 **Tom and his reasons, I plan to get into that a tonnn more especially in his sixth year. I have so many spoilers I am dying to spill but I will contain myself and leave it interesting for now, but its killing me. Your English is perfect, I didn't have an inkling it wasn't your native language, so no worries there. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ for leaving me such wonderful, detailed reviews! It was amazing to read through them all(:**


	36. An Eager Entente

March 3rd, 1943

"Re, what did you do?" Susan repeated, stabilizing her friend's nearly limp body onto the bed, willing her not to faint. It had been obvious that something was wrong with Merissa from the moment she had walked in, but she had no idea she would react so severely. She currently appeared to have hardly more substance than the Grey Lady, which was particularly concerning given the ghost had been dead for nearly ten centuries.

There was no question that something highly suspicious had been happening with Merissa. Last Susan had heard from her, Riddle and her were at odds, and high ones at that. There was a tension in the air quite unlike anything Susan had felt before and it had continued on, no matter the rumors they were friendly now. If anything, when they had apparently reconciled and become friends, it seemed even further off. Susan had told herself first that she didn't care and then that given her behavior lately, she didn't deserve to know. Merissa certainly didn't owe it to her to explain, but she had kept watch despite herself and was further puzzled and puzzled. More than once, Susan had caught herself gawking at them, smiling and working amiably together in potions, but then Olive would make a sarcastic comment about it and she would look away.

Today when the contents of Merissa's bag had been scattered about on her bed, Susan had been too curious to help herself and quickly saw not one but two high quality invisibility cloaks spilling from the leather satchel. Since discovering them, she had been sitting, waiting to confront Merissa. Certainly, she had though, this couldn't be a good sign, and given Merissa's reaction, she wasn't wrong.

"I don't know," Merissa murmured and Susan pulled back to examine her still keeping a steady hand on her shoulder.

Merissa had always been smaller, a fact Susan was all too aware of when people used words like "delicate" and "ladylike" to describe her. No such adjectives were ever attached to Susan herself, and it had made her envious, all too aware of how she still towered over most boys and how her broad shoulders took up more space at a dinner table than she thought they should.

Maybe that was why it had been easy to blame Merissa for what happened - initially at least. Everything seemed to come easily to her, even her magical abnormalities largely unknown or ignored. Classically pretty and poised, Merissa had always garnered attention, and those who learned about her rebellious streak usually only found her more intriguing.

Susan, on the other hand, was considered far less a mystery. A girl who hadn't yet adjusted to her long limbs, awkward on the ground so she preferred the sky where she could be graceful and powerful and the two didn't have to collide with each other. Even in the classroom, though she was more proficient with a wand than Merissa, the subjects her friend excelled in - Potions, Charms, History of Magic - were the kinds a lady was expected to enjoy. In fact, Susan's success in Defense Against the Dark Arts first year had been so frowned upon that she purposely underdid herself in class and tests since.

Which had been just another reason to feel hurt when Merissa went to Alphard for dueling lessons and not herself. Being angry with Merissa had been easy, and facing why she was when Alphard broke it off with her was not.

It had been difficult though. The two had been near constant companions for nearly their entire lives, and not knowing what was happening with Merissa felt strange and foreign. Susan had been quite tempted when the dormitory had been ransacked to ask Merissa why on earth anyone would do that, but when they had come face to face, she pushed her off again.

The Witch Weekly article had been the final straw, too outrageous to ignore. Susan had been appalled when she read it, wondering how on earth someone could write that. Unfortunately by the time Susan had reached her, Merissa had decided that it was her who had sold Clarence Day the story.

It wasn't a completely ridiculous assumption either, so Susan didn't allow it to hinder her apology - not that Merissa had accepted it. But maybe she was had a way, letting Susan stroke her hair while she took deep breaths. Either way, she needed her, that was obvious, and Susan felt ridiculous for allowing her for denying that for so long.

"What should I tell Abby then?" Merissa asked, her fingers in the silver fabric again as she watched her hand appear and disappear, "Since you saw through my cover rather quickly?"

Susan was pleasantly surprised that Merissa let the lie go so easily and nodded, "You can't tell her the truth, whatever it is. You may just be able to salvage the story - if you sell it," Susan moved farther back onto the bed to have a better view of her face, confident now the smaller girl wasn't about to keel over, "Well, have at it again then. Maybe you can make it work."

Merissa composed her face, inhaling slowly before her blue eyes focused, determined on some imaginary target, "Abraxas and I use them sometimes . . . when we want to have a snog."

Susan was unable to contain a guaff, "Who was that trying to convince, exactly? You sound ridiculous."

What's so ridiculous about that?" Merissa snapped, folding her arms across her chest. Clearly, she had thought it a better cover than it was.

"I'd believe it if you said that about Abraxas and _Riddle_ ," Susan replied pointedly and Merissa turned a rare shade of beet.

Susan had always had an inkling about Abraxas, but in the past two years it was confirmed to her, if only by his subconscious behavior. It was simple fact that any boy who spent more time staring at his male best friend than he did his girlfriend - particularly when his girlfriend looked like Merissa - was not after what was assumed.

"And anyways, you're an abysmal liar. Always have been," Susan added fact-of-factly.

Merissa sputtered incoherently before accepting defeat, eyeing the taller girl sidelong, "Only to you apparently," she muttered.

Susan wondered who else she had tried lying and genuinely hoped it wasn't anyone important, or at least if it was, Merissa had done a better job. Perhaps it was just because of experience, but Susan could sniff a lie off Merissa from a mile away.

"Its Riddle," Merissa finally whispered curling her arms around her knees as she put her feet on the edge of her bed. Merissa's black cat slunk between them, pushing its head against its owner's leg expectantly. Susan watched as Merissa gently began stroking the creature, speaking again, "His secrets. I've been trying to figure them out. . . He has more than I originally thought," she hesitated, seeming to mull something over, "A whole chamber of them, if you would. Runs in the Gaunt line."

Susan blinked, soaking in what Merissa had just said. They had been educated together even before Hogwarts, so she understood at once what she was talking about. The Gaunt's were the last descendants of the line of Slytherin, therefore inheritors to the right to open the Chamber of Secrets. The chamber was a ghost story, told to them by Alphard, or Joseph when he had been less stuffy, to scare them. It was never spoken of as something that might have actual merit, and the fact that it had gone undiscovered for so long nearly obliterated it from an real consideration. But if Tom Riddle a Gaunt like Merissa implied, somehow it didn't seem so outlandish. Susan had always thought there was something incredibly sinister about him.

"He's not . . ." Susan said slowly, though she had a feeling that he was exactly that before Merissa even opened her mouth.

"The very last one," she confirmed, "And he's quite determined to open it."

"He hasn't yet?"

"No."

"The monster," Susan gulped drily, "Do you think its real?"

"I'd rather not find out," Merissa said darkly.

Susan nodded. She was exceedingly glad she had found the cloaks when she did so she could start sooner rather than later. As it seemed, Merissa nor Tom had succeeded yet, but the race must be close if she was this nervous. All of the dark rings under her friend's eyes, skipped meals and spilt book bags made sense now. There was only one thing to do about it.

"Well go on, I can only assume you bought that second cloak preemptively, so I could join you once I found out. Tell me everything."

Merissa's sputterings were by far the least eloquent sound she had ever made, but neither cared - Susan being far too determined to get an answer and Merissa outraged at the girl's audacity. Merissa's face was heading in the direction of the same beet color again and her jaw appeared as if it might not regain the ability to clench if she allowed it to gape any longer.

"I understand how dangerous this is," Susan told her calmly, though Merissa's mouth was still attempting to form words severe enough to describe how wrong Susan was.

"It's not just dangerous, its deadly," Merissa retorted.

Susan shrugged, "Whatever."

"No, no, not whatever," Merissa insisted, standing up and beginning to pace, "I am doing this in complete secrecy while playing Riddle's right hand man - woman - whichever. If I involve someone else I am risking not only them but also myself. He's threatened to kill me for far less meddling, what would stop him now."

Susan wondered if this were true or if she was just trying to convince her, because there was some hesitancy in her words as if she wasn't sure of their validity. Regardless, Merissa was set now, no longer gaping, but mouth pressed into a hard line.

Susan was decidedly unphased, "Do you want me to join his fold too, so our risk is equal? Honestly Merissa, who would I tell? I don't have any real friends except you."

Merissa's tight lipped expression wavered for a moment and she scowled. Susan saw her weakness and pulled her back down to sit on the bed, "Tell me everything," she insisted again.

"I didn't buy the second cloak for you," Merissa told her, her chin protruded stubbornly.

Susan laughed, "Obviously, that was a joke. Have you forgotten what those are around Abraxas and his stale bread attitude?"

Merissa refused to budge, "Don't you want to know who else I'm working with?" she baited, if only to accuse Susan she was too nosy anyways.

Susan easily dodged the bullet, smiling, "Alphard, probably. I don't care."

And she truly did not - it had become obvious within the first week of being with Alphard that it would never work, his infatuation with Merissa aside.

Merissa scowled, "I'd have be certain you wouldn't to say a word to anyone else about it."

Susan grinned, "Who would I tell?"

"Abby, obviously!" Merissa snapped, affronted.

"We've already constructed proper lies to tell her," Susan pointed out, "I wouldn't want her involved, she wouldn't handle well. Mary's too shallow to care, before you ask. James probably already knows, in his own way."

"How do you figure?" Merissa demanded.

"He knows everything, doesn't he," Susan dismissed with a wave of her hand.

Merissa couldn't disagree, as their friend had a keen sense of all things, so she moved to begin organizing her things again, "There's not sense in arguing on the topic, as I can hardly trust you, regardless."

Susan stayed seated on Merissa's bed, unaffronted by the claim. As bad as things between them may have been, Susan had always respected Merissa enough to say what she would about her to her face. Even when they were at odds, they knew exactly what to expect of each other and although this had been by far their worst quarrel, neither really mistrusted the either for a moment of it. Just as Susan had attempted to convince herself Merissa had gone behind her back with Alphard, Merissa had nearly bought her own delusion that Susan would really talk to Clarence Day. But these were beliefs of convenience they'd tried to fool themselves with. When it came down to it, either would have still entrusted their life into the other, and it wasn't any different now as Merissa tried to appear busy preparing her bag, yet was unable to leave the dormitory.

She paused, her hand midway to reaching for her Herbology textbook to meet Susan's expectant gaze. They held each other's eyes for a long moment and Merissa finally let out a long sigh and dropped her bag onto her bed, her body following shortly after. Closing her eyes, she reached beneath her books and retrieved one of the masses that was the invisibility cloaks and tossed it at Susan. The olive-skinned girl caught it deftly, a wide smile across her face.

"As it so happens, I suspect my helper may soon be unwilling," Merissa told her, voice muffled by her pillow.

"I'm a far better help anyways," Susan said smugly, running her fingers through the strange fabric.

Merissa rolled her head and cracked her eyes open to scoff at her. Susan continued grinning.

"So, Riddle is trying to open the Chamber of Secrets," Susan began. Merissa hissed at her to keep her voice down, so she obliged, "And you have these to help him? Or stop him?"

"Somewhere in between I suppose," Merissa grunted in response, "You're still on a need to know basis," Susan gazed at her expectantly, "All you need to know is after dinner tonight we're going to slip away under these cloaks and go to the second floor. It'll be easier, he won't miss you like he would -"

Merissa stopped herself abruptly and Susan could tell she had almost uttered whoever was helping her's name. It genuinely didn't matter to her though, so she asked, "Second floor is where the entrance is? Or where he thinks it is? Do we know how to open it yet?"

Merissa frowned at her, "Need to know, Nigellus. Merlin, you're a pain in the arse. Just follow me and don't make a sound. I must be mad letting you along."

"You're mad for attempting this without me," Susan told her.

"You're not helping," Merissa muttered, rolling on her side and beginning her Herbology homework. Susan understood and spent the rest of the afternoon silently studying at her own desk. When it was finally time for dinner, both were happy to retreat down the Great Hall, Susan carefully tucking the cloak into the bottom of her bag before they exited the tower.

Mary gave them a strange look as they crossed the common room together and began whispering to a small group of fourth years she had collected. Susan gave her a disgusted scoff but Merissa simply ignored her.

Once seated in the Great Hall, Merissa felt rather exposed at the Ravenclaw table, her back to the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. She met Abraxas' eye as he entered the hall, confusion clear on his face that she had not picked her usual spot, but she gave him no indication. If he thought she was angry about earlier, let him. She was, after all.

Abigail and James joined them soon after, along with the rest of the fifth year Ravenclaw's. Although OWLs were still a bit off, Patrick Burke had sent some a frenzy last week by announcing he would be beginning group sessions in the library. The collective reminder of how little most had studied so far had panicked many, and even some members of other houses had begged to join. Both Susan and Merissa had yet to attend one of the meetings, but Abby had been sure to inform them how dreadful they were.

"Its downright miserable," the redhead lamented, spearing a lamb chop, "Even with just a chapter for each subject in each session, I'm confused. And we're hardly making progress either, everyone interrupting with questions every minute," Abby gave an uncharacteristically irritated look down at Thomas, who was obvious, a few seats down chatting with Burke.

"You two still at it?" Susan asked slowly, exchanging a look with Merissa.

"Yes, yes," Abby said impatiently, "He just talks my ear off sometimes is all."

Susan raised her eyebrows at her, but the redhead was too busy with her meal to notice. Privately, she thought the pressure really must be eating her alive if she was willing to say a word against Edward Thomas of all people.

/_\

Susan was confused when Merissa lead her to the second floor girl's bathroom when they snuck off after dinner, but even more so when Merissa's disembodied voice asked, "Can you feel it? . . . Its in the walls."

Pulling back the cloak, Susan pressed her bare palm against the tiled wall. It was strangely cold, but otherwise normal.

"I don't feel anything," she told her.

Merissa sighed, "Abraxas can't either. Maybe I'm just crazy."

There was a silence that stretched on except for the soft footfalls, echoing as the pair moved around the room, examining it. Susan's mind was buzzing as she glanced around the place. She had so many questions, but all Merissa had told her was they were looking for anything peculiar.

"What leads you to think this is the place?" Susan couldn't help but restrain the question a she examined graffitied initials carved into a stall door. The lavatory seemed exceptionally ordinary.

"Need to know, Nigellus," Merissa muttered her newfound mantra.

They both examined the place for a several more minutes, then Susan let out a long sigh. She was positive she wasn't going to find anything useful without more information, but she knew asking again would only make Merissa more likely to withhold information. Drawing her wand, she swept the place, attempting every revealing incantation she could think of, even tapping on the tiles and listening the the sound. If anything was hidden, it wasn't keen on revealing itself.

Merissa spoke after much more time had passed, Susan nearly upside down examining the bottom of a sink, "We should leave."

There was a definitive nature to it and Susan frowned in her direction before realizing her expression wasn't visible, "Why?"

"Someone might notice us gone," Merissa explained flatly. Whatever real reason she had for leaving at this particular time she kept to herself, though Susan had a hunch if she spent more time watching Tom Riddle's comings and goings, she would understand.

Nevertheless, Susan followed the sounds of Merissa's footsteps out of the door and to the alcove they had put the cloaks on in. The shorter girl had already stashed her cloak away in her bag by the time Susan had wrangled hers off.

Merissa's eyes were sharp as she muttered, "Come on then," and began weaving around the castle up towards the Ravenclaw tower. She seemed like she quite expected to be caught and Susan watched her curiously, keeping up with her swift pace easily.

"So why did you start hanging around Riddle?" Susan asked conversationally as they ascended the fourth flight of stairs.

Merissa's eye flitted about as if the walls of the abandoned corridor likely had ears of their own, "I had a lot of reasons," she answered quickly, "I thought it might make him trust me more, or tell me more."

"Did it?" Susan asked. To her, it seemed an unlikely plan. She doubted Riddle put much trust in anyone. He seemed to operate entirely on his own, when it mattered.

Merissa began chewing on her lip, "I suppose not to much difference, at least not that I have been able to learn yet."

Susan narrowed her eyes at the response, "The legend says the chamber could only be opened by the heir."

If the previous reply hadn't be suspect enough, Merissa shrugged, "Some legends are just that after all."

Merissa hardly said more than a sentence more that night and went to bed soon after returning from dinner, leaving Susan to sit at her desk, half-heartedly doing homework while pondering the entire trip. More and more, Susan found it was a wonder in itself that Merissa had gotten this far without her.

* * *

 **Another update less than a month from the last? Lately though, that's pretty impressive for me, ugh. Good news, I updated this and got a bunch of writing done for some other WIPS and later chapters of this, which was a lot of fun. Bad news? The next few months are going to be absolutely rough. I am taking a lot of really difficult core nursing classes this upcoming quarter and working a lot, so I'm not really sure how often I'm going to be able to update but I will do my best. The good news after that? I'm only working one job this summer as opposed to my usual three! So I will be able to write so much and the mere thought fills my heart with joy haha. Please leave a review telling me what you thought of this chapter, thoughts on Susan and her voice and anything else(: Thank you for reading!**


	37. Voiceless Vociferous

March 16th, 1943

Magic, amongst most things, came very simply to Tom, something he greatly enjoyed reminding himself of - and others when it suited him. He could recall as clearly as if it played before his eyes, the day he had first discovered he wasn't like the other children. Often, he had considered it must be so when he met the other's blank stares across the breakfast table in the orphanage. They were hungry only for the gray slop they were fed each day. At the time, he had guessed better fed, better dressed children must have had more intelligence in their expressions, but when he had been old enough to venture out of the gray stone building that resembled a tomb, he found that was not so.

The hunger in him was not so easily satiated, nor so logically explained. Before discovering his talents, he found it quite queer how empty he felt.

Magic was of his first memories, and he thought that well, because his life had not really begun without magic, and he was sure would end no other way.

The day he had received the confirmation of this idea - that he was _special_ , talented even - was not unusual. The sky was gray and though it could not quite be called rain, he recalled the air was too heavy with moisture to play outside comfortably. Not that this troubled him any, even then. Playing outside in the small cobblestone square that lie outside the building didn't interest him, and on days like this, the dank air only made the soot fall quicker and heavier to the ground, coating all of London in an ashen dew. His room was the only place he spent much time in, and that too was to his liking.

That particular day he had taken one of the youngest boys in his room to play with him, or at least attempt the feat. He had been about five himself and had not understood yet that playing inside didn't interest him anymore than playing outside - or indeed playing at all. Like a shadow, he attempted to imitate what he observed the other boys doing in the yard. They took toy soldiers and marched them all around the withering shrubs, so he took it upon himself to do the same. He leaned over the sill, poking his head past the filmy pane to watch until he had memorized their pattern well enough to replicate it.

Perhaps, he thought, he had chosen the boy as a playmate that day because his name had also been Tom, and for that they would understand each other better than he did the other boys. But even as he and the younger Tom made the soldiers circle the room, he grew tired of it quickly. _Tom_ was a very common name after all, and one couldn't trust it meant a playmate of merit.

"It's too much work," the young boy had complained, rubbing his knobby knees where they knocked against the wooden floor like the hoof of a horse. Nearly all the children in the orphanage were more bone than anything else.

"I want them to go on their own," Tom had sulked, "That would be much more fun."

Then, as if the tiny replicas had heard him with the ears the toymaker had neglected to carve, they sprung to life and began racing around the room on their own accord. Tom was elated, watching the figures jog around the shabby wooden legs of his cot, one scaling it to examine the gray wool of his blankets. Their tiny wooden footfalls sounded like rain on the rooftop as they circled around in the same pattern he had intended. Remarkable, they seemed to know the route by heart.

The boy cried out, and Tom thought it must have been in joy, because indeed, this was a miracle, but when he turned to see his sallow face, it was not so. The other Tom's face was white with horror.

Fear was strange to Tom, though it was something he saw often enough. It was present in the faces of the boys when the matron's husband. Mr. Cole, became too drunk and came after them with his belt, or on the expressions of passersby the orphanage when the food grew scarce. Fear was a difficult emotion for Tom to replicate. Something about it never seemed genuine on his features, so he had studied the other boy's face carefully, until he fled the room, crying for Mrs. Cole.

Tom hadn't been on the receiving end of the paddle that night, simply because no one believed the younger boys tale. In that instance, and all of the other's, no one could seem to explain the strange things that happened around Tom Riddle, though it was quickly deemed by Mrs. Cole's husband to be something unnatural. By the time Tom had reached his eighth year, nearly all the children were downright suspicious of him, but no one could ever catch him in the act, and not on accident either. Tom was as careful as he considered the other children stupid. Unfortunately, they didn't require evidence at Wool's as they did at Hogwarts, and some nights he had been deemed guilty regardless. Certainly, it had been the last time he had a willing playmate. Even inexplicable whispers were enough to isolate him entirely, which he often reminded himself was a good thing - they were much easier to frighten that way.

By the time Professor Dumbledore had come to the orphanage, Tom had time to perfect his methods, and at the time he had thought it without flaw. The other children carefully avoided him, and even Mr. Cole was less willing to beat him than the other boys. Hogwarts as it turned out, had been the test of his abilities, both magical and manipulating. After all, it had been significantly more difficult to make people fear him when his skills went from inexplicable to expected, if not lacking talent. Nonetheless, the day Dumbledore had come was unaboutly the happiest day of his life at that point. He had lost himself in the presence of the older wizard, and perhaps that was why ever since, even now, the Transfiguration professor never took a keen liking to Tom.

It was abundantly clear today as the professor walked down the aisles between the carefully arranged desks of the Transfiguration classroom, smiling broadly at the students as he complimented their work, pointing out where some had gone wrong with a softness Tom despied.

"Excellent work, Belby," Dumbledore praised, "Particularly precise corners. Try more of a flick in the future, just to get rid of that pesky tail."

He squinted across at Belby's creation, finding it nothing worthy of any amount of praise, but Belby just nodded and thanked Dumbledore reverently. Everyone had so much respect for the professor. It made Tom's blood boil.

He held his head high nonetheless as the old man began down his row. Even to Tom's underlings, Dumbledore gave small words of encouragement, though perhaps he was less eager as he was with the Hufflepuffs which they shared the class with. The professor seemed to sense their was something off about the group of boys who stuck to Tom like planets in orbit. Still, Avery received a comment on the quality of his snuffbox, and Malfoy was praised for the beauty of his encrusted gems.

Tom's eyes ran over his own silver box for the hundredth time, daring it to reveal any imperfection that it had hidden until now. It remained the same, a sleek and perfect, that retained no qualities of the lizard that had been scampering along his desk an hour ago. Unlike Lestrange's, it did not still have claws, or its surface retain any scaling quality like Nott's.

The professors eyes finally reached Tom's desk and he smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he commented, "Good work, Mr. Riddle."

Tom practically seethed, though he only allowed his head to dip in response, as he always did. There wasn't any point in being as polite to Dumbledore as he was to his other professors. He had tried in vain for the first few weeks at Hogwarts, clinging onto their brief familiarity for rapport, but it hadn't made any difference. The old man refused to give him any credit, either way. _Good work, Mr. Riddle_ might have been the only phrase the professor had spoken to him since first year, and it miffed him beyond belief. His box was entirely flawless, anyone who laid eyes on it should have a hundred things to say about it from the exceptional detail in the lid to the shine of the heavy silver as if it had just been polished. He was a prodigy in all subjects, and this one no less. If the quality of his magic ever was to wane in Transfiguration, it surely would be to blame on the fact that he never recieved a word of instruction from the old coot. _Good work, Mr. Riddle,_ indeed. It was all Tom could do but not grind his teeth until they were dismissed.

Though he left immediately, his troop was plenty acquainted with his swift departures and caught up with him quickly, as if the pull of his gravity was too strong to resist. Lestrange was fast at his side, as he had been. Recently he had become almost incessant, blabbering away at whatever he thought would put him in favor. He seemed entirely unable to contain himself, opening his mouth the moment he was at his side.

"I have put much time into discovering where the books taken from the restricted section might have been relocated -" Lestrange began at a mutter just in Tom's ear.

"Not here, you idiot," Tom hissed, nudging the boy away from him, hard.

As Lestrange stumbled back, Tom took the opportunity to push in to the Great Hall unimpeded. The rest followed directly after, however. Sometimes, he wished for a break from his entourage, thought he knew he had only himself to blame for their insistent reverence.

He sat on the stretch of bench he had claimed as his own two years ago now and had yet to ever contend for since. He began loading his plate, eager to finish lunch and move onto the next class of the day. Transfiguration always put him in a rotten mood and he looked forward to Charms where his ego would be repaired again. At least _that_ professor recognized his genius.

Just as he had settled down and was selecting which roast he would have this afternoon, a flash of dark waves obscured half of the face of the pale blond across from him.

"Sorry I've missed meals lately, love," Merissa Thorpe was saying, pulling away from the brief kiss on the cheek she had given Malfoy, "I'm entirely bogged. Herbology essay nearly took me out, I swear. Been attending Burke's study sessions on top of it all. He really is an awful bore, he makes me grateful Thomas is a perfect and not himself, if that can be imagined -"

"Merlin, Thorpe, a _study_ session?" Nott interjected before Malfoy could hope to reply. The disgust in his voice, if not clear enough, was also displayed on his face, "With OWLs stills months away?"

"Only two," Thorpe defended, and Tom adamantly agreed with her, though he did so quite silently. If he hadn't been studying for OWLs since he had first learned of the exams first year, he would have felt quite compelled to do everything in his power to learn the information now, and quickly. The rest of his house seemed equally appalled at her behavior, however.

"Have you started studying already?" asked the female Rosier twin. The idea seemed foreign to her, and indeed he couldn't recall ever seeing her in the library, though he doubted he would remember. He didn't see her even when he was looking directly at her.

"Exactly, Thorpe," Nott extended as if Rosier's comment had been an endorsement instead of a question. He didn't seem to listen to the mousy girl either, "When was the last time you had a drop of alcohol in you, aye? Or spent an evening in the common room doing anything fun?"

Merissa seemed unable to come up with a proper response so she shrugged, although the telltale crease between her eyebrows began to form, and it was clear she was uncomfortable being backed into whatever corner she was. She was still standing just behind Malfoy, her hands resting on his shoulders, unwilling to commit to sitting down.

"Let us throw you a birthday party!" Rosier insisted brightly, clapping her hands together in excitement. Tom'd head throbbed, the headache that had been threatening since Transfiguration coming into form under ambush from the shrill cry so close in proximity to him. He rubbed his temple distractedly.

Though from Tom's understanding, birthdays were supposed to be a positive event, Thorpe seemed less than eager on the idea and raised her still creased forehead in surprise, letting out a nervous laugh. As not to show his interest in her peculiar reaction, Tom had to be careful to continue eating and keep his eyes only at polite attention.

"I really wouldn't have time before the holiday with quidditch matches upcoming with all of the extra -" Thorpe began to protest, but the brown-haired girl wouldn't hear it.

"Don't be silly, Merissa," she insisted, "I won't take no for an answer. Andrew and I have already decided we want to plan it together."

The girl gave Thorpe a very pointed look and apparently it must have referenced something they had said in confidence because Thorpe began chewing her lip in deliberation. Her eyes flickered momentarily in his direction but he didn't allow any emotion to pass his features except a vague expression of disdain directed at his plate.

"We'll move it to the weekend after the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match if you're concerned about quidditch," Nott was saying, smirking broadly. He had reason to be pleased, knowing she would have no excuse not to accept.

"If you insist, thank you," she replied slowly, "That's very thoughtful of you," her eyes remained decidedly on Rosier and it was all too clear she too had noticed the rather hungry expression Nott surveyed her with, even now.

Indeed, Nott didn't receive even a glance as she leaned to give Malfoy another kiss on the cheek and said, "I'll see you for dinner then? If I make it back in time."

The blond boy nodded, hardly noticing as she dashed away as quickly as she had come. She had been absent from the table quite often lately, spending more meals at with the Ravenclaw's now than not. While Malfoy didn't seem to take any issue in her behavior, others seem to think differently.

"Salazar's spit, Malfoy," Avery lamented once she was gone, shaking his head, "What are you doing letting her brush you off like that?"

Avery had been quite persistent with comments like this since Thorpe and Malfoy had apparently reconciled. He seemed more invested in the situation than he should be, but Tom considered it might be something he would understand better if he took any interest in Malfoy's life.

"I hardly mind, we are both quite busy preparing for OWLs," the blond replied stiffly, his eyes still downturned on his meal. This was his usual response, if not some variation of it.

"Women shouldn't care about such things anyways," Mulciber grunted.

Neither seemed to find Muciber's comment worth entertaining, so Avery put a firm hand on Malfoy's shoulder and squeezed encouragingly, "Regardless, just do it, mate. She won't be able to keep off you after that. Women, it changes their brains, ties them to you. Would simplify things an awful lot with you two, the off again on again. You might as well be happy if you're going to be together."

Tom was adamantly ignoring them now, his eyes narrowed down at the meat he had yet to taste though he been chewing it for the majority of the lunch hour. They had often discussed such things at meals in the past, though Thorpe's presence recently had kept them at bay. Some manners were left to them, and talking about such things in front of a lady was still taboo. Malfoy turned a deaf ear to it, as he always did, but Avery was persistent.

"Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about," Phillip insisted. His hand on Malfoy's shoulder might have been meant to be a friendly gesture, but Malfoy winced under its pressure as Avery lowered his voice to a near whisper, "Just take her up to your bed once she's a few drinks in - not too many - just to relax you both. Skirts make it easy, just hike it up and -"

" _Merlin_ , Avery," Alphard growled from a few seats down, "Do you _mind_? Some of us are trying to eat without imaging Malfoy's bloody bare arse."

Avery snorted and muttered something under his breath, but then he allowed the subject to be dropped - a small miracle. Abraxas' shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and Tom watched him knowingly. It had been obvious to him rather quickly after meeting the boy that Malfoy looked at him with more than admiration.

However these days, he considered, he was met with far more downturned eyes than adoration from Malfoy. It struck him, he couldn't remember the last time the boy had made even the briefest eye contact with him. Although he had never cared much for being adored - he far preferred reverence - it was downright suspicious. He had assumed he squashed the problem with the confrontation in the dormitory, but Malfoy had only avoided him more since.

"Malfoy," he spoke, making the boy start in his seat in response. It was uncommon for Tom to address them during meals, "Do make yourself available this evening? I require your invaluable council."

Abraxas cleared his throat, eyes wide and said quickly, "Of course, my - Riddle."

Tom smiled and nodded in response, though his mind was wizzing at top speed considering the possibilities.

/_\

When Abraxas sat down for dinner that evening, his palms were already slick with sweat and his throat felt in danger of closing in on itself. Tom was already seated across the table and nodded to him in greeting, but said nothing of meeting, so Abraxas allowed himself to hope the whole matter would be forgotten. He was in no state to lie, least of all to Riddle. Even without legilimens Tom had a keen sense and Abraxas worried he would be found out with just a glance these days. As he began dishing himself a meager supper, feeling far too nauseous to eat much, small arms wrapped around his shoulders and he felt a familiar light peck of lips against his cheek. Merissa released him and took the seat beside him, unaware of how much he would rather she stay away and not draw attention to him. Riddle already had eyes on her.

"I told you I would make it in time," she chirped brightly, "Actually gave me a brilliant excuse to leave early - Burke might as well be running a military compound with how strictly he keeps us all there."

The Ravenclaw table was indeed missing most of their fifth year students, large gaps in the usual clusters making it obvious. Abraxas was under the impression she had come early because she was hungry, but nevertheless, she smiled brightly up at him and asked, "So how's quidditch?"

Perhaps she was genuine because she watched him expectantly, waiting for reply. It was rather out of character for her to take an interest in such things, besides not holding a grudge for longer. Surely, he had thought, she would have made a bigger fuss about him avoiding going on any more expeditions to the second floor bathroom with her, but she had taken it well. Far too well in fact. He felt a creeping suspicion and straightened his back as if to get a better look at her as he spoke.

"Well enough," he told her, "We've been practicing two days a week, and whenever else we can get the pitch."

She raised her eyebrows, "Surely that's a bit too careful, given Hufflepuff was pumpelled by Ravenclaw."

He was never sure if what she meant had a double meaning, but if she was referring to him being too careful with the chamber, she was wrong. She wasn't being careful enough, and he was hardly having this conversation in front of Riddle, coded or not.

"You can never be too prepared," he said, "For the very worst, even."

He gave her a significant look and she allowed the subject to drop.

The heavy oak doors opened a few minutes later, and following after a gang of Gyrfindors, Susan Nigellus entered the hall. He wasn't sure why he had noticed her, but Abraxas watched her midly and waited for the remainder of Ravenclaw house to enter after her assuming Burke's session had finished, but the oak doors stayed firmly shut. He watched sidelong now as the olive skinned girl walked down, glancing about as if she too was surprised by the lack of her housemates. Merissa was eating her meal highly particularly, her eyes down at her plate and appeared to take no notice.

"Nigellus seems to have beat the rest of them back," Abraxas commented, still unsure of what he was accusing her of.

Merissa's glance was either entirely nonchalant or entirely rehearsed, "I'm hardly surprised, she doesn't care much for staying cooped up in the library."

Abraxas couldn't find a reasonable way to continue the conversation in that direction so he just agreed mildly.

"Slughorn plans to have another dinner party before the holiday, did you hear?" he asked, turning his attention back to his meal.

Merissa was less than enthralled by the idea, "I have. Its the night before he has our potions essay due. He does like to test us, doesn't he?"

"Nothing makes him happier, I'm sure," he shrugged. He could hardly fake much excitement for the idea either.

Druella drew Merissa's attention away a few moments later with talk of the party, and Abraxas was able to clear most of his plate before Tom rose, his eyes on Abraxas intensely, all at once. As if he would ever fail to notice when Tom Riddle paid him mind.

"Ten minutes," was all Tom said before sweeping off out of the Great Hall.

Merissa noticed the exchange and gave Abraxas a wary gaze as Druella chattered on. Abraxas felt the undeniable pull to follow him through to oak doors gain momentum as Merissa's attention shifted back in his direction. Merissa would know if he was lying, but then so would Tom, and that was really the trouble with being in the middle of their spats. Though Riddle was usually quite literal with his direction, Abraxas only allowed nine minutes to pass before he jumped from his seat, unable to contain himself the the bench any longer.

Merissa rose with him and smiled unconvincingly, "I'll walk you."

He was going to argue but she had already latched her hand onto his arm and her grip told him he would have to jinx her if he wanted free. As they began out the hall, they passed Nigellus. The brief exchange of eye contact would have been less conspicuous if it had been hostile, but the two regarded each other calmly. Abraxas frowned down at the olive-skinned girl and she was quick to avoid his gaze in return.

Once they were out into the corridors Merissa grabbed his still moist palm and held it up like a piece of highly incriminating evidence, "What is this about?" she demanded, "Why are you meeting Riddle alone?"

"He asked to see me," he replied. As if it were so simple.

She knew it wasn't, "Why?" she asked automatically, "When? Did you say something? Did he say something?"

"No idea," he replied shortly.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "If I didn't know better I would think you were going mute. I don't think you've given me an answer longer than five words all week. You still haven't told me why he keeps stashing that heavy book away everytime I so much as come within the same floor of the castle as him."

He shrugged, eyes fixed ahead. Irritation was rising, building in his chest, though he'd rather not express it. It was in her nature to be so obstinate, nothing more to it than that, but that didn't make it any easier.

"Why are you always like this about him?" she snapped.

His eyes flickered to her. Surely she would have come to a conclusion by now on the matter. He refused to believe she wouldn't have. And indeed, her expression was more accusatory than curious.

"You know," he pointed out.

"No, I want you to say it," she insisted, "Maybe then you will realize how ridiculous it is. Being involved with him is precarious enough without emotions clouding it out."

"You've made your opinion on the matter clear," he stated, his voice steely, "You don't think he's redeemable."

She scoffed, "Hardly just that. I think - I _know_ \- he's dangerous."

A flashed escaped the careful cool he was constructing, "No Merissa, I think dangerous is playing him, aggravating him. I think foolish is double crossing him. Whatever it is you're hoping to achieve, _it's just not worth it_."

Her eyebrows leap of disbelief accompanied the clench of her jaw, "We simply disagree then. Fine. I'll leave. Enjoy your time with him."

Her unwillingness to argue with him further signified just how angry she was with him, and as she turned brusquely he realized how irritated he had become with her as well. Straightening his robes rather forcefully, he turned as well and marched the rest of the way up to the fourth floor, his fear quite forgotten until he ducked through the door and into the room with wreckage of items where Tom was waiting for him.

* * *

 **Hello there! That's right I'm back, and I am sorry for the wait. As I suspected, this quarter totally kicked my butt, but I am back and summer is here so lots of writing to get done. I hope you liked this chapter! It feels strange and wonderful to be writing again so I hope I'm not too rusty. I hope to get the next few chapters out within the month, and I am very excited of whats to come. Please tell me what you think, predictions or anything else, I love hearing from you all. Thanks for sticking with me and taking the time to read this(: Until next time!**

 **To my incredibly kind reviewers:**

Purretzel: **Thank you for you continued reviews! I am so flattered that you are so patient waiting for content, especially given how long I took this time, oh gosh haha. I did want to get this chapter and the future ones right, for myself and for amazing readers like yourself and I hope it was so. Of course I'm hoping it doesn't take me THAT long again. Thank you again for your kind words, they were very appreciated!**

beefsupreme **: You are the kindest soul for going back and reviewing, you bless my story with your reviews thank you 3 I'm so glad you've enjoyed the last few chapters, I almost felt kind of in a funk about them because I'm establishing a lot for what is to come and I feel like that's boring and I really don't want it to be but ah. I'm really enjoying pushing myself a little out of my comfort zone writing other character POV in this story and on WIPS which I have yet to publish. I feel like Merissa had become such an easy character to write, but Susan absolutely takes me forever and that's almost fun? I'm not sure haha. Anyways I feel I got a bit off topic, but thank you for always reviewing, it really does mean a lot just to know you're reading and excited for more.**

CarolinaFlint **: Thank you for your review! Your detail in your reviews is simply unparallelled and I love it so much. Susan is back and I am happy to see her as well! It is always interesting writing a character from another perspective and I really felt rather bad doing so to Susan since of course I know she had lots of different motivations, so I am glad I can sort of clear her name in explanation after mostly static about her character, if that makes any sense. Thank you for saying you like Merissa's voice, she really had become such a fun character to write. I know I definitely have to work on being more condensed, as is clear by how long this story already is haha so thank you for being honest about it haha. I'm so happy to hear you're still enjoying the characterization, thank you again for taking the time to leave reviews (: Congrats on finishing your story btw it was a joy to read and I was sad to see it end!**

AiStar: **I don't want give any spoilers (and you probably don't want them either) but you are absolutely right, you've made the most accurate prediction. Everything will go wrong. Thanks for you review, I hope you are okay with my cryptic response! Haha**

Guest **: I finally did update, it's a miracle. Thanks for reviewing.**


	38. The Party's Over

March 26th, 1943

To say Abraxas' avoidance of her was like the plague would almost be too slight to describe the deftness in which the blond evaded Merissa for the next few days. Anytime she thought she glimpsed his stilt frame, in the crowded corridors or amongst the other Slytherins in the Great Hall, when she turned to give him a proper cool look, she caught only his departing figure or more often no sign at all. In fact the only time she saw him for any length of time was during the classes they shared together, and he arrived a moment before the class ended and left swiftly afterwards. Quickly realizing what he was attempting, Merissa made no indication of his presence, and indeed spent so scarce time looking at him, it took a fellow Slytherin to bring to her attention that Abraxas had been acting odd at all.

"He's so nervous these days, he just about vaulted out of bed when I came in late last night," Alphard told her flippinlantly, leaning his chair back and earning a nasty glance from the librarian, to which he returned with a boyish smile.

"Who?" Merissa asked, frowning up from her essay.

"Abraxas," he had replied, quickly diminishing any interest she had, and the topic was dropped quicker than Nott could lose a quaffle.

Now, over a week later she had no more information than this about Abraxas' unusual behavior. Not that she sook him out either, as she was sure to make quite plain, only deviating from between the library and Ravenclaw tower for classes or meals. If he wanted them to stay cross with each other, she was all too willing to oblige.

As the bustle of OWLs became more and more pronounced, a mass hysteria spreading from the corners of the library throughout the entire fifth year, it became increasingly easy to dismiss the other's absence.

"Well he has his own study group doesn't he?" Merissa pointed out when Abigail questioned her on his absence and she assumed he was saying much of the same to his housemates because no one seemed particularly curious on the matter. It was refreshing, everyone too busy to mind anything but their own business.

Merissa had even immersed herself in the panicked preparation, joining Burke's study group in person instead of just using it was a cover to hunker down in the second floor bathroom with Susan. Susan herself had found great humor in the idea of either of them attending such a ridiculous waste of time, but as the exams became more imminent, Merissa suspected even Susan's cool head was becoming overly cramped with information.

"We might as well go," the taller girl had lamented a week into their expeditions, "Since we are claiming to. I think I might even prefer it to this place."

It was entirely tiresome to attempt the same few broken phrases of Parseltongue at the walls, mirrors and even basins. Even with her conviction that something wasn't quite right about the place, it seemed fruitless to attempt anything more, at least until she had a better handle on Parseltongue - and that too had been delayed. Riddle had apparently been taken up by the studies as well and he had postponed their meetings until after exams were finished. Merissa felt something akin to disappointment when he had told her, but it felt too conspicuous to protest.

Afterall, she should at least have the appearance of caring about the OWLs, and indeed, just a few months ago she had been quite earnest about achieving top scores. Her curiosity had overtaken most everything since, and she was finding pushing it back down was more difficult than she imagined. Nevertheless, she still did want to outdo Riddle in everything she could manage and lately there were few things that seemed more satisfying to her, so studying became a necessary evil.

Her mind was restless though, and she found herself glancing at Tom's unreadable expression through the cauldron steam in Potions more often than not - wondering what he could be thinking rather than focusing on memorizing the potion ingredients like she knew she should be. Since she was hardly on speaking terms with Abraxas, she had no inkling of what the dark brown bindings of the book Riddle had taken to toting around contained either. She spent even more time trying to discern its cover than she did his expression. Though she thought herself quite careful, he apparently noticed one afternoon.

"Your glances are bordering on rude in their frequency, Thorpe," he commented without raising his eyes from his book where he had been re-reading for exact instructions.

"So is your tone," she snapped before she could stop herself.

He almost smirked in reply, but said little else, wordlessly shredding the mandrake leaves without complaint. He was increasingly short on words lately which, Merissa was sure to mention to Susan, _almost_ made him sufferable company.

Without their meetings, Merissa found the days meshed quickly, one into another. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff match was the only marker of the weeks and it ended incredibly quickly with Hufflepuff hardly having the chance to score a handful of goals before the snitch was caught, resulting in Slytherin's victory. Quidditch matches against Slytherin had been ending this way so often Susan even complained vehemently that until Abraxas had an eye poked out, they were hardly worth watching, yet alone tromping out into the icy pitch for.

Classes seemed to be the only time that still moved at the same paced instead of hyper-accelerated, but even with this before she had time to give it much thought, the weekend of the party Druella and Andrew had been planning for her arrived. Yet again, Merissa found herself almost dreading a party and wondered what kind of stereotypical shut-in she was becoming. In the spirit of it being a surprise of sorts, Merissa hadn't been privy to any of the details, but when Druella had come over to the Ravenclaw table on the eve of the party to ensure she was planning on wearing something 'properly lavish', Merissa felt even more disheartened.

"Cheer up," Susan insisted, "There's sure to be plenty of very expensive alcohol. Nott seems keen to impress."

"Isn't he always," Merissa barely contained to a mutter. Abby gave the Slytherin a scalding glance over James' head. She had a historic issue with him boiling down to the fact he was far too assumptious.

"It might do him some good if he wasn't such a tedious git," the redhead remarked, causing Thomas to start beside her. Since her refound loyalty to her table, Merissa had confirmed that Abby and Thomas were indeed going steady without the agonizing discomfort of having to ask anyone herself.

"You surely don't mean Andrew Nott?" Thomas exclaimed, overtly aghast, "Why I daresay he's sent out more flowers than me over the years, and my dear mum is a florist. I always thought highly of him, a fellow gentleman and quidditch champion!"

The two of them were swept up in conversation, Thomas was now attempting to understand exactly how and why someone would be labeled as such with his usual intensity of fervor. Abby was exceptionally patient, but seemed to be making no headway.

Concealed by their vehement debate, Susan spoke in an undertone to Merissa, "Phillip Avery approached me today."

Merissa eyebrows skyrocketed, causing Susan's cheeks to turn a rare salmon color as she ducked her head, "No, not like that. Goodness no. He wanted to talk about you actually. You and Abraxas."

Merissa felt her lips tightened microscopically, but she didn't put on as big of a show concealing it as she might have with someone else, "What did he want?"

"I told him if it was about you two it was hardly his nor I's business, and therefore there was nothing to discuss."

Susan's voice became higher and somewhat more formal when she was uncomfortable and Merissa glanced sidelong at her before they both averted their eyes to their plates before she began again, "He hardly listened though, he was going on about how there was an unnatural distance between the two of you and how there was only one way to go about mending it -"

"I can imagine what Avery's solution to such a thing would be," Merissa stopped her, "Thank you for telling me."

Neither said anything more, and Abby, still wrapped up in explaining exactly what made Nott unsavory, was deaf to their murmuring conversation. A table over, the discordant arrival of Avery and Lestrange caused a stir, somewhat even around the Ravenclaw table. Merissa kept her eyes down, refusing to contribute to the interest, particularly after what Susan relayed. Jostling each other as they made their way to the stretch of bench near Riddle still left unoccupied for them, Merissa only caught a few words before Avery bumped rather harshly into James back.

"Watch it, git," Abby snapped pushing the blond back into the isle with surprising strength.

Phillip muttered an apology, hurrying after Lestrange, who had already taken a seat at the table. Merissa kept her eyes on her meal, but she could feel someone watching her. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt under the table nervously. Abby turned back and huffed, pink tinted cheeks puffing out dramatically, "Are they such morons they've lacked the ability to walk properly? I've really had it with their nonsense this year, got the be the third time they've done something like that this week. Are you alright James? If you're not I'll go have a word with Avery myself I swear . . ."

James shrugged, but Susan said in an undertone, "Did you hear what they were saying? It sounded like they were arguing."

Merissa finally allowed her eyes to flicker up again. No one was looking at her. Riddle wasn't even at the table, she noticed with some confusion. She turned her eyes back down, shaking her head.

"I didn't hear," she said softly.

"Well whatever it is they better sort themselves out before I do," Abby said, still visibly heated. She turned to give Avery a nasty look, but a crease formed in her brow, "You know Merissa I can't say the last time I've seen Abraxas in the Great Hall. That's not like him - is it?"

/_\

Abraxas Malfoy had finally come to the conclusion he was nothing more or less than a complete nervous wreck. His hands trembling, he attempted to mop up some of the ink seeping into his desk before it could drip over the edges and stain the dormitory floor. The role of parchment he had been working on before upturning the inkwell was wicking up the dark liquid, vanishing the few sentences he managed to get down so far. He lacked the heart to even curse as he did so, and because of this it took anyone almost a minute to notice his struggle.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy," Alphard snapped, bounding from his bed to help him. He, Avery and Nott were already in the dormitory for the evening, only Tom still missing from his bed. With a flick of his wand, the ink was vanished. Abraxas blinked at his desk several times before setting his peacock feather quill back in the now empty ink pot. His hands were still unsteady and the feather clinked against the sides before dropping down properly

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alphard demanded. Abraxas winced and blinked up at him, mind still reeling from his panic.

"What do you mean?" he asked. His voice was dull but his own ears didn't recognize it.

"I mean why are you entirely useless all the sudden?" Alphard challenged, eyes boring down at him, "More so than usual, even."

"Lay off, Black," Phillip ordered, his baritone strong despite his reclined position. He was tossing up and catching fizzing whizbees in his mouth with a practiced hand and didn't seem to be fond of this interruption.

Andrew raised his head from his quidditch catalogue with a nasty smirk growing on his features, "Black's not wrong, though. He has been annoyingly unnerved lately. Riddle is getting tired of it, I can tell," indeed, he seemed smug as he asked, "Is the stress of OWLs getting to you already?"

Abraxas failed to make a reply. Phillip sighed as he pushed his torso out from under his sheets, "I think we all know why Abraxas is a bit out of sorts and we should be gentle with him accordingly."

Abraxas' eyes darted up at Avery in disbelief, but the boy just lumbered over to lean against his desk and put a hand on his shoulder, "You're worried about having it out with Thorpe tomorrow night, right?"

"Oh for Merlin's-" Alphard began to protest, just as Andrew chimed in, "Honestly, not again-"

"Close your ears if you're both so frilly," Phillip suggested mockingly. They were both displeased, but shut their mouths. Phillip turned back to Abraxas, who was actively avoiding his gaze, "Don't worry, mate. We've talked about this a hundred times now. I would even bet that she has been waiting for this, but women only can't say so, of course. I'd bet she'll be happy when you do."

"Did you ask her, Malfoy?" Alphard asked scathingly, "I don't recall you two having much alone time to bridge the subject lately."

Abraxas turned his head slowly to acknowledge him. Alphard was tense, almost as tense as he felt. Nott was flicking through the catalogue again, but the irritated twitch in his jaw showed he plainly was listening as well. He very much wished he could have the same reason for discomfort as them.

"Don't listen to these twats," Phillip said sternly, "We have a plan, it's going to be brilliant. You should be excited, this is a good thing."

Abraxas could feel his chest tightening, threatening a dry sob, but Phillip had clapped him on the back and blown out his lamp before it had a chance to develop. Abraxas didn't allow himself to wallow any until Tom had returned and all was silent for the night.

/_\

March 27th, 1943

When the day of the party finally dawned, Merissa found herself misted with a mood of melancholy that she couldn't shake, no matter how she twisted and turned in her bed, or even as she forced herself to sleep until near dawn, although her mind had been wide awake since just past midnight. Her tired body finally succumbing to her restless mind, she pushed herself from under her covers and sat with her back against the headboard and a pool of sheets at her feet. She pushed open the hangings to find the rest of the dormitory still fast asleep, of course. The sky outside was still a deep violet and the last of the stars were slow to fade.

Sighing, she pulled a dragon skin journal and a quill from her nightstand. She opened the book, a thick ribbon of satin marking her last entry. Squinting at the page, she soon determined the light coming from the window was still far too meger to read with, so she leaned out of her bed just far enough to retrieve one of the stubs of candles she kept on her desk before closing the drapes around her again. Lighting it with a practiced hand, she took advantage of the illumination to skim her last entry. It was from over a month ago, and it was abysmally short.

 _February 20th, 1943_

 _Hinkpunks have evaded me again the the forest, I doubt I will ever catch one with my wit still intact. Merrythought and nearly everyone else says they see a half dozen everytime they go even a hair inside the treeline, and I am ready to die in the woods if that's what it takes. Riddle thinks I need to lose my bearings for them to appear, but that's just what he would want for me to do in the Forbidden Forest, wouldn't he? He's still an intolerable prat._

Hot wax dripped onto the hand that was still clutching the stump of the candle and Merissa cursed, nearly dropping it. Susan grunted in her sleep as Merissa set the light down on her nightstand and after brief rummaging through the drawer, found some bright green salve she had made just a few months prior. Muttering under her breath, she rubbed it onto the angry red line on her hand, thrusting the journal into her lap as if it were its fault for distracting her. Re-reading the short paragraph Merissa scowled and picked up her quill to begin scratching down the date just under it. She was unwilling to have a mention of Tom Riddle be the closing statement of her inner musings any longer.

 _March 27th, 1943_

 _Today, Druella Rosier and Andrew Nott are throwing me a party for my birthday. I am not sure that either know my actual birthday, but it is a nice gesture, either way. I wish I felt less unhappy about it. All they have told me so far is a lot of people are coming and Abby let it slip that Druella was ordering some enchanted ice that doesn't melt for drinks. I suppose that might be all there is to know about it, I could hardly say I will care either way. I wonder if Tom will come._

Her hand stopped and she cursed under her breath when she realized she had run into the same issue as before. Unaccustomed to her now idle burnt hand, she had the book propped haphazardly on her lap and it now jolted under the intensity of her quill.

 _I only wonder because he's the only other thing I would notice one way or another on at the party._

She stopped again and glared at the line, wondering how it escaped her hand when she clearly had not meant for it to. Scribbling it out in annoyance, she started again.

 _I feel in some ways I've been attending the same party my entire life. He at least brings some change to the guest list. Even if he is still an insufferable prat._

Her eyes flickered to the above entry and she huffed when she realized where the phrase had been coined. She re-read what she had written so far and frowned. Dipping her quill in the inkwell so vigorously she splashed on her nightstand, she put an angry 'x' through the entire entry and flipped over the page to start a new on a blank sheet.

 _March 27th, 1943_

 _Druella Rosier and Andrew Nott and throwing my a birthday party today. I have heard from lots of people that they are excited for it, and I am too. I am sure I will enjoy myself and afterwards Abraxas and I will have it out._

She stared down at the journal. She thought she would feel better after writing this sarcastic entry, but the same wistful air surrounded her, thicker than ever now and she huffed again, closing the book and stowing it away.

Transparency was something she had always longed to have, but never fully achieved, and now that she was censoring her own diary she had no idea who she could be frank with. Turning the journal over in her hands, her palms moved over the cool, smooth covering and she couldn't help but be reminded of another place by the sensation. An idea budded in her mind and she laughed aloud at its ridiculousness. Entirely absurd, but at the same time, it was a better option than any. She was willing to try most anything to feel herself again and get entirely wasted and carefree tonight.

She was in her robes before she had decided, but her mind was made up by the time her shoes were strapped. Why not, after all. It wouldn't be any less than scribbling in a book she kept spelled shut. Pulling her underutilized silvery cloak from the bottom of her book bag, she folded it up into a square and tucked it under her arm before leaving the dormitory, closing the door as softly as she could behind her. On the stairs, she thought she saw a pair of large glassy eyes peer out from the third year dormitory, but they were gone when she glanced up again to check.

Outside the common room, the castle was silent and she took care to keep the clicking of her shoes against the marble stairs at a whisper. When she came to the second floor, she glanced around, and finding the hall empty, she slid behind a suit of armor and emerged a moment later, wrapped in the cloak.

She didn't expect to meet anyone there, not at this hour, and even if she did, there was nothing wrong specifically with being here, but she still felt better, incase she ran into someone unsavory lurking. Unable to resist a certain level of caution now at the door the lavatory, she edged her way through. Inhaling despite herself when she found it empty, she was quick to scoff at her own paranoia. Allowing the cloak to fall to her shoulders, she kept it clasped with a hand at her breast. The air was always cold in here and she liked it, taking in a numbing lungful.

Though, now that she was here, she severely doubted the soundness of her plan. She should be avoiding this place when she wasn't actively trying to find the opening, she knew. Musing over here was no different than her empty dormitory, and with far more inherent risk. But there was some energy in the place that made her feel like she would be heard her if she spoke here, a strangely comforting idea.

"I know I shouldn't like this place, but somehow I do," she started to murmur, hardly louder than a whisper as she traced the porcelain curves of the basins with her free hand. They were the coldest part of the lavatory, as they always were. Water dripped from one of the faucets, the sound echoing in the empty space.

Catching sight of her form in the mirror Merissa's lips quirked upwards to what appeared to be her mere torso floating past the sinks. Facing the back wall now, her eyes raked over it, but there was no inconsistency in the tiling, all the way up to the ceiling. Extending her wand, she tapped on the wall absentmindedly. The soft _clink_ of the wood against the tile mixed with the soft echoes of the _plink_ of water and filled the room for a moment before turning indiscernible and melting into silence again.

"It's funny, when I think about it, I likely wouldn't find it so if I could figure out how to open it, if it even has an opening. The allure is that it seems to be a puzzle that neither Riddle nor myself can crack, which is really quite impressive. Either Slytherin did too good of a job or we're entirely off base. I can just picture Tom's face if he found out he had been staking out a girl's bathroom for the better half of a year and nothing was here."

She smiled to herself, "If I'm having a real play at imagination, I could try what it would be like if I had succeeded, or if Tom had. While I can't rule out that he has, I have a feeling he hasn't. He's been careful lately, and not nearly as arrogant as I assume he would be if he had. And then there's you, the monster. When I picture what kind of beast Salazar Slytherin would have left for his heir, I figure something slimy, cold. Deadly, of course. I never heard of Slytherin having much interest in magical creatures, so I can't imagine he'd breed one of his own."

She frowned, pressing her palm firmly against the wall. The sensation was almost one of a thrumming, like a tiny heart was beating just behind the tile or a giant lungs were taking deep breaths far away, rattling the wall from miles down. As she blinked she saw a flicker of a scaly face, great yellow eyes. Jumping back from the wall she inhaled deeply. It was brief but she swore it looked something like a dragon.

"That's just a stupid thought," she scolded herself aloud, "This chamber couldn't possibly be large enough. Someone else would have found it by now."

She retracted back her hand nonetheless. The creature had been vivid in her mind and she didn't want to think about it any longer. Her heart was thumping uncomfortably in her chest, so she put her palm, still cool from the tile, over it. It did little to suppress it, but she felt it slow along with her breaths until she allowed it to drop and caught her reflection in the mirror again. She looked pale and she detested it.

"Really this is how I should feel when I'm around Riddle," she said firmly, speaking more to herself than a theoretical monster now, "Even if there is a chamber and a beast, he would still remain the most serious danger to me."

She held her own eyes, narrowing them now at the ghost of an expression that was crossing her face, "Although I don't feel frightened around him, or at least not nearly as much as I should be. When I'm around him I feel like I'm with a friend, almost - or maybe better said, like I'm with someone who could be a friend if things were different."

She turned from the mirror abruptly, irritated by her own thoughts. Casting the cloak back over herself, she slipped back out the lavatory door as soundlessly as she had entered, leaving the room silent except for the constant _clink-plink_ of the water and the slightest whisper of a humming, coming from the tiled walls themselves.

/_\

For the rest of the day, Merissa attempted to dispel her mood and practice complacence by accepting well wishes and spending the day surrounding herself with others, but the only thing she managed was exhausting herself before the evening had begun. After saturating herself with thoughts and talk of the party for the first half of the day, once lunch had come and gone she decided to have a go at the opposite approach and avoid thinking of it at all, which turned out to be more effective than she expected. So much so, she was halfway through a large portion of shepherds pie at dinner when she realized she had no idea what time she was meant to arrive at the dungeons. Susan glanced at her, apparently noticing her start.

"What time exactly did Druella tell you all to be at the party?" Merissa asked the surrounding table at large. The ceiling above was already turning an inky blue, the sun either dipped behind the mountains or was too heavily covered in cloud to afford the sky any color.

"She told us not a moment before eight, but I would ask when she wants you. She had rather um . . . particular instructions for somethings," Abby extended, glancing to Susan for support.

Merissa blanched and her mouth fell open, on upcoming spew of questions forming but Susan had firmly pulled her to her feet and began tugging her to the Slytherin table before she could ask any of them, "You are absolutely not about to panic Merissa Thorpe," she scolded her, "Lets go ask Rosier, and about the time only. There's nothing to get worked up about."

Merissa closed her mouth, willing it not to become a pout, "I am not panicking."

"Good," Susan shrugged.

Now that they were closer to the table, making their way down the isle, Merissa could hear Druella talking exceedingly quickly to a small group of housemates around her, consisting of Abraxas, Alphard, Avery, her twin Davao Rosier and of course Nott. Druella herself was quite dwarfed in size by her company, but her presence made of for it with vigor and a surprising amount of authority. The mousy haired girl cut herself off when she spotted Merissa and began to almost bounce in her seat in excitement.

"Merissa! You weren't trying to gain an ear on any of the planning, were you?" she laughed giddly, "Well I can promise you, you won't extract a word from me or any of my helpers. I have them all under tight wraps."

"She nearly had us sign a blood pact to set out so much as a napkin," Alphard said conspiratorially, but it was clear from the telltale gleam in his eye he was enjoying himself. Alphard liked these sort of things, and for a moment Merissa found herself envious of his lightheartedness.

"Don't you dare give her anything, Black," Druella warned, stabbing a finger into his chest. He just laughed, tossing back his hair.

Merissa smiled, "Could I at least extract what time I should be ready?"

Druella considered this, scanning the largely blank faces of her helpers for any input before at last deciding, "8:30. Don't you dare be early."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Merissa assured her, barely containing a grin from the look Alphard was giving her over Druella's head. She was trying very hard not to spare Abraxas or Tom a glance, but she could feel one of them looking at her.

"Happy birthday Merissa," Marianna Prewett called down the bench ignoring Olive Hornby's outraged expression from beside her and giving Merissa a welcomed diversion. The girl winched as she glanced up to give her a brief smile, but it likely had more to with Olive kicking her under the table than anything else.

"Thank you -" Merissa began to reply, but she was cut off by her brother injecting, "Her birthday isn't for weeks."

Merissa gave Joseph an exhausted expression down the table which he didn't see. Marianna seemed to deem she had been too highly punished for her short remark to say anything else because she returned to her meal, grudgingly elbowing Hornby back. By the time Merissa's gaze flickered back over, whoever was staring had stopped and she met neither grey nor sloe eyes.

/_\

Merissa took the longest to arrange herself for the party, and wasn't until Abby had at last filed out of the room as well for her to realize exactly why. She could feel the smile sliding off of her face as she told the redhead she would just be another moment, and not to be late on account of her.

Abby smiled, a real, brighter than the sun smile as she nodded, "I don't want to keep Thomas waiting . . . just don't fiddle around too much longer! I think I heard some of the sixth years starting shots in the common room a few minutes ago, maybe you'll catch them on your way out as well!"

The genuine quality of her excitement was astounding and Merissa almost wished she could capture if and press it against her sore cheeks. Smiling again seemed to great an effort so she just nodded enthusiastically in response. She wondered again what on earth was wrong with her as she finally knelt down to pull on a pair of slingback heels. Standing again, now a few inches taller, she twisted one of the tendrils she had dislodged from her otherwise pinned hair. She dropped it again, letting it ripple down to her pearl-choked collar again.

"I never would have expected you to develop a primpring problem," Susan said, coming behind her in the mirror. Despite having slipped into her dress an hour ago (much to Abby's unrivaled zeal), Susan had stayed behind, much as Merissa had.

"You either," Merissa teased. She tapped the other girl's bronze cheek with her index finger, now adorned with a rare spot of blush for the occasion, "But you look quite in your element in this, as much as you do in tossing a quaffle about."

She smiled, attempting lightheartedness as she turned and pulled the other girl's satiny black hair over her shoulder warmly. It contrasted beautifully with the cream colored satin of her dress.

Susan brushed her hair back, "What's bothering you?"

Merissa frowned and bent to adjust the strap of her shoes. It rubbed the seam of her stockings roughly against her ankle.

Susan was raising a strong brow at her when she glanced back up. Straightening, Merissa huffed and turned back to the mirror, adjusting the skirt of her inky dress, "I don't know honestly. Nothing I think. I just need a few drinks."

Susan was still looking skeptical but after a moment she said, "Well I certainly know a place that has plenty of that. Let's go."

/_\

Tom could hear the wild laughter and booming music from the other side of the dungeon, so he had no doubt that Slughorn was kept up in his quarters willfully ignoring it. Though their head of house rarely displinced anyone, it seemed exceptionally unlikely he would do anything if he had heard this was for Merissa Thorpe's birthday. The exceptions from the rules had once infuriated Tom, but he now was rather impressed by how many rules she managed to bend constantly while maintaining the highest of reputations with the staff. Only he exceeded her in that skill. Even with him, she had bent the usual expectations for inside his group with negotiation and clever planning. Until she opposed him again, he couldn't be bothered with it.

Once he was outside the common room, he had to repeat the password several times before the door seemed to hear him over the overwhelming noise coming from inside, and decided that perhaps he was a tad annoyed with Thorpe for this. Just as he attempted to enter, a girl nearly fell out, staggering drunk. It was absolutely packed inside, the heat radiating out from the bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder reaching him even in the freezing corridor.

"Hello Riddle," the girl giggled, swaying back in the room as she made contact with his shoulder. She nearly spilt her overflowing drink of him, making her erupt into a fresh round of giggles, "Sorry," she apologized and careened into his arms.

His first instinct was to shove her off of him, especially since she reeked of alcohol, but seeing how eyes had already begun flickering to him, he squashed the urge and helped her to the nearest seat. Whoever she was, his disgust for her wasn't worth his reputation. He was discouraged further, however, by her nuzzling into his neck as he sat her down, and the squeals from a group of nearby girls suggested the move might have been purposeful. Ignoring their interest, he pried the girl's arms off of him making as little contact with her as possible.

Guessing the girl wouldn't remember if he left abruptly, he had straightened up and halfway turned to leave when he stopped, seeing a familiar silhouette only a few seats down.

Thorpe was sipping something, gazing out into the crowd. She was alone, a strange expression on her face. Her legs were crossed neatly under a material dress, back against the counter. Perhaps it was the drink, but he had never seen her look such a way, almost as if the lack of construction of her face made it more abstracted, yet sincere. He had never considered it before, how almost paradoxical she was.

The seventh year girl still clinging to him began leaning far too close to him again, and he pushed her off instinctively. Realizing what he had done and seeing her horrified expression, he sighed and grabbed a glass of what appeared to be water off the table and handed it to her.

"Take care, Greengrass," he said, planting her firmly in a chair. She sulked for a moment but then seemed to forget, tipping the glass of water back zealously.

"Foolish girl," he muttered, far too low for anyone to hear him over the pounding music. When he glanced up again he saw Thorpe was watching him now, eyebrows raised in obvious mockery. He wondered how much she had seen. She toasted her drink to him before turning back to her consideration of the party. It struck him off that she was alone at her own birthday gathering.

He came to her without hesitation, taking the stool beside her. Her glacial eyes considered him sidelong for a moment before returning to the conglomerate of people. His stayed on her, the strange expression still visible. Even after months of practice, he had a very hard time naming her expressions. They were too much a hybrid of genuine and portrayed emotion for him, it gave him a headache to attempt.

"Quite the gentlemen," she noted, nodding to the seventh year he had deposited, "I didn't know you had the capacity. Greengrass will surely have your name on her tongue for weeks now."

"I don't wish her to," he said at once.

Her eyes slid onto him for a moment before returning to the boisterous crew. They weren't doing anything interesting from what he could gather. They were playing a loud drinking game around a table they had dragged to the center of the room, and those who couldn't shove their way into the circle were watching, chanting names and drinking themselves. Malfoy seemed to be a favorite, finishing his shot much quicker than the opposing boy, assuming that was the point. The usually pale boy had a pink flush from his ears to his collarbones that seemed to go along with the uncharacteristically loud laughs admitting from his mouth and his failure to notice Tom yet.

"They seem to be having a grand time," he commented, rather because he didn't know what else he would say to her. He didn't know why he had come over in the first place. His bed was waiting for him upstairs, and the idea of Merissa Thorpe being more compelling than that even was bizarre.

"Of course they are. They're drunk," she said. Her tone was almost amused, or rather that it would have liked to be amused.

He eyed her drink rather suspiciously, wondering how hypocritical she was being. Though her speech was quite clear, he couldn't help but wonder how many she could have gone through in the time she had been here. The liquid in her glass was startlingly red which he guessed was to cover the large amount of alcohol in it.

She noticed his interest in it and handed the drink to him readily. He frowned at her, "I'd rather not poison myself."

"Try it," she smirked and he did, rather quicker than he should have, perhaps.

He frowned at the taste, sickly sweet. Waiting for the harsh bite of alcohol he blinked down at it when none came. He glanced at her profile again and noticed how sharp her eyes were.

"This is pop," he said flatly.

"It is," she agreed, corners of her lips tugging up, "I've been pouring myself it and acting as if its quite strong for hours now. Not as if they could taste the difference at this point."

There was something strange about her this evening. He had caught her in a rare mood, surrounded by people who were functionally blind and deaf. She was like the eye of the storm, perfectly calm, disturbingly still.

"Anyone who spoke to you would catch on," he told her.

She turned to him curiously and suddenly her face transformed into one of uninhibited, distinctly drunk glee and she let out a plea of laughter. It was disturbing to watch, and for a moment he thought he must have misjudged the drink, but then her face was back to the same pensive look as before.

"I think I can fool them," she said plainly, turning her eyes back to the crowd. He couldn't disagree.

He handed her back the glass of cherry red syrup and she took another sip. Her lips were stained with the color mixed with the tint of her lipstick, making them appeared bloodstained. Eyes still fixed on Abraxas, she tossed the rest of the drink back.

"Maybe I should drink," she muttered, and he wasn't sure if she meant for him to hear.

"Why aren't you?" he asked. He was genuinely curious. How many times had she played them? It was the perfect ruse, no one expected much of her anyways. He had once made the same mistake, and he doubted he ever would again. The vapid creature she hid behind and surrounded herself with were far from this bright-eyed being he saw before him.

"I'd be in no mood if I did," she confessed, "Besides," her jaw tightened significantly though her lips turned upward, "Surely you've heard what Avery has been pushing Abraxas to do tonight. Why they've been sneaking essence of maca and ginseng into his glass all night. A few more drinks and he might be brave enough to try."

The smile she gave him was so forced that it took him several beats to realize what it was meant to be. She turned her head again and set down her glass on the table with a clink of finality. He had indeed heard Avery insisting on the matter every mealtime. The insistence had grown to such a degree that neither Alphard's retorts nor Tom's own warning glares had silenced them.

Black indeed didn't seem to be of high spirits at the moment, Tom noticed with some interest. He was a few tables away, nursing a large bottle of firewhiskey and throwing Merissa gazes that might have fit a starving man gazing at his last chance of meal. His curiosity was piqued when she seemed to have no inkling of it.

"Black seems to be paying you more attention than Malfoy though," he tested snidely. He was unsure why he was putting artificial tastes of irritation and hostility into his tone - he wasn't. Perhaps, he allowed, this conversation would feel too naked without it.

"I don't care about him," she answered at once, and he was surprised by the coolness of her tone. Regret, "I mean not like that," she amended softly, a small crease forming in her brow as she examined his expression, "I care for him like I do for . . ."

"A pet," he guessed.

There had to have been some veracity to the assumption because she seemed saddened by the comparison. Her eyes turned to him again and did not move away swiftly for the first time tonight, "Do you think so poorly of me?"

He blinked at her, "Quite the opposite, that was a compliment."

She smiled at him. Though he was hardly practiced enough, he swore the expression shouldn't be laced with such melancholy.

He rose to his feet, "Happy birthday, Thorpe."

The strange expression on her face faded away to another equally foreign one as he left. His last thought before collapsing onto his bed was that he would never keep up with these looks if she insisted on creating more.

/_\

A few hours later, Tom was awoken but rustling of sheets and the murmur of voices. He sat bolt upright, but forced himself to peer discreetly through a crack in his hangings. There was no reason for him to be so on edge, and he would rather contain himself entirely rather than anyone having an inkling that he cared what was happening. His heart pounded when he was able to make out two figures tangled together in front of Malfoy's bed. Surely not. He blinked again, and after a loud grunt, the taller figure collapsed onto the bed.

"Idiot mistook a bloke for his girlfriend," he heard Avery's baritone grunt to who he guessed was Nott from his stringy silhouette. Tom realized he had been holding his breath and let out a long sigh, feeling entirely ridiculous.

"He wasn't sober enough to keep himself upright, yet alone his dick," Avery was grumbling.

"I'm devastated," Nott snickered in response. Tom allowed himself to fall back onto his bed, suddenly exhausted again. He couldn't fathom why it would have mattered either way, but he was relieved he would be let off wondering that either way now.

"Keep your paws off," Avery warned darkly.

"Whatever," Nott muttered.

The two were silent again and all the sounds of the party had receded, allowing Tom to drift back to the first dreamless sleep in weeks.

* * *

 **Hello! I am back AGAIN! No ones more excited than me, believe me. I again I am really sorry to have taken so much longer than I originally estimated - I should probably stop making projections about when the next chapter will be up because nothing seems to make absolute sure I DON'T get it done at that time haha. So thank you for reading and being patient, I was really touched by all the reads I was still getting even while being AWOL so again thank you (: Let me know what you thought about this chapter, I had a lot of agony - I mean fun? - writing it. If I was making a rough estimate from what I have written and mapped out so far I'm thinking five or six more chapter to go to get to the end of fifth year here which is really wild to think about. I've been debating if I want to make a "new" story for sixth year? It seems like it would make sense to break it up a little, especially considering how monstrously long this is gotten but let me know what you all think about that. Anyways until next time!**

 **To my good and kind reviewers:**

 **CarolinaFlint: I was so so happy to hear that you were sold on the Tom POV! I love writing it, but it definitely takes me a lot longer than Merissa. Ahhh I knew that Tom to Abraxas switch would be hard I just hate doing like "Abraxas POV" in the middle of a story just the way to looks I'm so against it even though I know logistically it makes so much more sense, so thank you for that feedback. Hmm what did Abraxas tell Tom hmm? That's a really good question that will be answered soonish? I'll never tell. Thank you again for you reviews they're always so helpful (:**

 **beefsupreme: I'm glad I'm back! I didn't have the discussion in this chapter but I swear I have reasons pls have mercy. This chapter actually ended up making me really unexpectedly sad for Abraxas, even more so than Merissa and he breaks my heart too! I've said it before but I never really understood what people meant when they said their characters did a 180 on them, but Abraxas really lives his own life and created himself I was just along for the ride haha. Thank you for your kind words friend 3**

 **Guest1: Well it took me a while but here it is, the next chapter! Thanks for you review.**

 **jinchaa: Thanks for your feedback! Its interesting to hear that perspective. I think its fair to remember that these are fifteen year old and fifteen year olds suck. Every single character is guilty of giving in to their flaws at one point or another (Merissa is selfish, Susan is jealous, Alphard is headstrong and Abraxas has no idea how to manage or express himself - remember when he smack the ever living heaven out of Merissa - yeah me too). Maybe that makes them "bad people" but just "people" are like that too. Beyond that, yeah, Merissa makes bad decisions all the time. I definitely am not intending her or any other character to be something to model choices around. Again this is just my opinion and reason for doing things the way I did, so if you're not okay with that, that's valid, I'm just explaining since you said it was confusing for you.**

 **Sky: Ah welcome new reader! Thanks so much for your review, I love to hear that new people are enjoying the story, that's very kind of you to say so. I'm hear for the drama too, believe me(: I hope this new chapter was as exciting as you'd hoped for. Thanks again for reviewing!**

 **Guest 2: Thanks for you review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **Beatrice3: Thank you for your review and welcome! Seeing your favorite and follow notification the other day kind of made up my mind that I needed to sit down and hash it out with this chapter, so thank you for that(: Hopefully I will update soon again! Also, not that I - definitely - stalked your profile but I saw you have a bunch of Hobbit fics as your favorites and honestly great taste, thank you again for your kind words!**


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